


The Virgin High

by LadyAmalthea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Boats and Ships, Disabled Character, Fisherman!Hank, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Mer!Connor, Romance, smut in chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: In the sleepy ocean town of Jericho in New England, Hank Anderson lives by the coast with his beloved dog, after being medically discharged into an early retirement from the police department. To fill in the cracks of what disability doesn't quite cover, Hank’s a fisherman. He goes out in his boat drunk on a stormy night, and wakes up on the shore the next morning. He thinks he can see the face of a beautiful young man… but his dog licks him out of his haziness and he finds at the crest of a mystery… and an opportunity.(Chapters 3 and 4 now featuring ART!)





	1. Warm Wind Coming

 

 

_ The Legend: _

 

_ It breathes water like air _

_     Swims deep in the sea _

_ If you save them, ask a mermaid _

_     What you want it to be _

 

\---

 

Hank felt guilty when he drank.

He felt guilt for his lost son.

He felt guilt that the accident three years gave him a limp, and anxious episodes near flashing lights. As a police lieutenant, this meant he could no longer do his job. He was discharged into an early retirement, of sorts. He felt guilt when he was approved for the small disability checks, when others needed it so much more than just a bachelor and his St. Bernard.

He felt guilt that he had to drag his dog through the struggle; the massive creature finding him passed out with a bottle in his hands or huddled into a corner crying most nights.

He felt guilt that he was lucky enough to have inherited his little plot of land by the ocean. A cabin that was just big enough, and a little bit of beach along the Atlantic coast. There was an old dock, which he had repaired before the accident, and an old boat with some fishing gear.

And fish he did. He would catch fish for the local grocer, sometimes lucky enough to catch a vendor that would put the fish in a bed of ice and drive it further inland.

He felt guilt that he had enough to live comfortably enough, thanks to years of saving and stemming off credit card debt. Nothing fancy, by any means, but well enough. The therapist did his job, his doctor did hers, and Hank lived on.

But… he still drank. It numbed the pain and fear, made him feel brave and in control when it pumped through his veins. It was hardly even 4pm, there was still enough daylight to fish for another few hours before sunset. He mumbled “see you later, boy” to Sumo, leaving his walking cane behind. 

It was the alcohol that told him to go out, despite the foreboding dark clouds coming in. It was still summer, but he ignored the thunderous warning in the skies as he launched the boat into the water. He took another swig of his flask, tucking it into his pocket. He got far enough out to throw some bait on his rod and wait. 

But the rain and wind came too fast, he was hardly ready when lightning struck near the lighthouse, just barely in view.

“Shit!” He yelled out, trying to start the motor to head back to shore. 

The ocean was harsh; waves crashing and filling the boat with the briny water. Another bout of relentless, freezing water crashed into his boat. He screamed as he was flung from its side; the tumultuous water holding him under. Even if it wasn’t, his aching leg would hardly move or kick if he tried. Hank held his breath as long as he could; he had to get back…. He had to-

__  
  


\----

__  
  


When Connor woke up, more than three full moons ago, he was alone.

All of the merfolk, his friends and family, all gone without any trace. 

He had drifted so far away in the night after a fight with one of his brother’s… but upon returning to where the group had settled the week before, the had been nothing. They wouldn't all pick up and leave… would they? 

He couldn't be sure, but all he could do was search. He traveled miles and miles, looking wherever they migrated through the seasons. The warmer waters showed nothing promising, so he went up along the coast warily, hardly knowing what more he could do.

As he journeyed, the pressing loneliness felt heavy in his heart. It was so foreign to him; they never separated or left someone behind. But there was a fear deep within him, a dark whisper that could be the answer: the sea demon Kamski. The monster’s desire for power over the oceans was great, returning again and again to take hold of what had never been his. A powerful force; a great energy that the merfolk guarded carefully since the dawn of their time. It protected the oceans, kept balance and peace. If it was ever taken by the cruel soul, all would be lost.

Connor found cooler waters as he traveled further north, finding areas where humans were more scarce. He was always told to fear them, to stay away because of their power over merfolk, but Connor was so curious. It could not have been humans who took away his family… could it?

On a restless night, as he continued his search, he saw the skies darken too early, too quickly. He swam to the surface for a moment, looking around at the angry waves. Salty foam sprayed as they clashed against one another.

And then he saw… a boat. The Mother Amanda had told them of those things. Humans used them to travel upon the water; some were large and loud like whales, and other smaller such as this one.

Inside it, a human flailed about in distress, knocked to and fro by the stormy waters. Connor could see he was struggling to stay in the vessel, until a harsh wave flung the boat upside down, and the human down with it. 

Connor knew humans could swim, for a little while. When he dove back below, approaching carefully, he saw the man kicking with only one leg, trying desperately to reach for air as he choked and struggled. But, he was sinking further down with each passing second.

Connor swam as quickly as he could; even if humans had caused the merfolk to disappear, it would likely not have been this specific human. He couldn't let the human die!

Gripping from under the large arms, Connor brought him to the surface’s edge, lifting his head above the waves and looking for any signs of life in the bearded face. They were pushed under again, so Connor swam as hard as he could with the human in tow to the shore. 

Connor pushed the man up to the sandy shore, shuffling himself out of the water just enough to tug the man away from the powerful undertow. Curiously, he pressed on the man's soft tummy, and water dribbled from his mouth. Tilting the man's head to the side, he pressed again, harder, until a raspy gasp was heard, but no words. 

The man seemed to be asleep, and the storm passed away as quickly as it came. He waited, amusing himself in the nearby shallows, but constantly checking on the human. 

After some time, the sun rose up to warm the world. Connor laid upon the beach beside the man, observing him with the morning light. He had never been this close to one before. This human was kinda hairy, and his hair was a speckled series of greys. He looked so peaceful while asleep; Connor dared to reach out and touch him. 

He was so…  _ soft _ . His hair, his arms… the very apples of his cheeks. Connor pressed his thumb into the areas that could dip and squish under his touch, and he smiled warmly as he studied the gentle face. The human looked troubled, but a gentle heart lying within.

From the bluffs above, up a set of rock stairs, a voice called out with the barking of a land-dog. Connor looked down one more time to see the human looking up at him; eyes fixed on him with their wildly clear pools of blue. The sight made Connor’s tail tense as he retreated to the ocean, swift like a current.

__  
  
  


Hank sat up, rubbing his head and trying to follow the face that was just in his sights. The beautiful brunet looked at him with such curiosity, and a moment later in the ocean he saw what looked to be a grey and blue-tinted tailfin.

He shook himself slightly,  _ did I really just see that? Or, did I swallow too much sea water? _

His dog came over and licked his face, and a familiar voice bellowed out from behind him.

“Hank! Hank, you all right?” His old buddy with the police force, Fowler was there. “I was out on patrol, heard your dog barking from down your driveway. What happened?”

Hank coughed, finding his mouth strangely salty as he licked his cheeks. “I’m fine Jeffrey…. uhhh.. I think…” Mind reeling, he continued to stare out into the calm, glistening waters.

“Thank God, you’re alive! Christ, Hank! Don’t do that to me!!” Fowler said, pocketing his radio and kneeling beside his friend. “You want me to help you back up to the house?”

“Sure, yeah….” Hank said, taking an offered hand to stand up. Sumo followed them up the path.

\--

Connor could feel his cheeks warm up as he fled away.

_ Hank… the human’s name is Hank... _

He did an enthusiastic flip in the cool water; the thought of the human’s face and stunning eyes made him feel… oddly happy. For the first time in so long, he was not dragging his fins along the ocean floor in dismay, and instead happily floating among the fish and sea grass.

He laid down on a rock, looking up at the shifting light of the sun through the waves.  The thought of the human in his mind…  _ Hank… _ the sound echoed with joy in his mind, and his face warmed like sand that soaked in the warmth of sunshine.

\--

“Anderson, you sure you’re all right? Your dog still seems a little more than agitated, and you look like you got run over by a trawler. Should I call your doctor or something?” Fowler asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Hank raised his hand, hobbling from the kitchen counter with his own cup; “I’m perfectly fine, Jeff. Gonna take my meds, a quick nap, and maybe go into town. The boat’s gone anyway, so I can’t go out on the ocean for a while.” His coffee spilled small drips on his way to the table, his still-shaking hands clutching the porcelain handle, and he sat with defeated sigh, “Do you know if Collins still has that spare boat hanging around in his garage?”

Fowler nodded, finished his drink and donning his hat. “I’ll ask; he should, though.” The officer nodded as he stepped toward the door, pulling the car keys from his pocket. “You need anything, you  _ call _ me Anderson,” he insisted. “Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah… see ya ‘round,” Hank waved his friend away, sipping his light and sweet drink and looked back out at the ocean. That face… that creature… it couldn’t have been real… could it? Hank just had a rather traumatic experience and was seeing things, according to Fowler. But he knew what that was like, he’d been through it before. But this...  _ this was real. _

When he went out in his boat, roaring drunk, he was hoping through his whiskey-induced stupor that he wouldn’t return. He couldn’t live with the pain anymore, at least he would go quietly and with some dignity. But that mermaid… merman?... that mer-person that had been on the beach, it made him content and curious enough to live another day.

“Sumo, let's go see Collins about that boat, huh?” Hank asked his dog, abandoning his coffee for his car keys and cane.

Lucky for him, Ben still had an old boat sitting in his barn. It was bigger than Hank's was and would need a new engine, but it was tough fiberglass all over. The portly farmer gave it to Hank at a steep discount, having had no use for it in many years anyway, and offered to help Hank launch it into the water. It wasn't often that you find yourself with such caring neighbors, but ol’ Ben was a generous one.

Hank lead the way back to his place, leaving his truck by the house and meeting Ben a little ways down the beach at a gently sloped section where they eased the trailer into the water. The new owner happily took hold of a leading cord, as Collins slid it off the trailer hooked to his truck. 

“There ya go, Anderson! You can store her in the barn in the winter. Maybe bring the missus a fish or two this week? I know she'll love a fresh catch,” the farmer said, hopping back up into his truck.

“Any time you like, Ben. I owe you a lot, thank you…” Hank replied starting to pull the boat toward the dock. 

Ben gave him a casual salute as he revved his engine, kicking it into 4-wheel drive to steer back up the hill.

Sumo was running up and down along the coast, happily splashing in the water.  “Ahhh, Sumo!! You're gonna fucking trail that into the house, ain't ‘cha?” Hank called out, coming up onto the dock and tying it off to catch his breath. He didn’t always need his cane, but he really should remember to leave one down here for days like this. 

Sumo came up to him, rubbing up against Hank's denim pants in a way of asking to be spoiled a little. The man rolled his eyes, patting the wet, matted fur, “You're a good dog, huh?” He teased lovingly.

As he looked up, he saw something splash in the water a little ways from the dock. It was too large to be a fish… Hank froze, looking out for any other movement. Even Sumo was barking at the sudden sound.

“Hmmm… let's grab some supplies and head out, whattya say bud?” Hank smiled, walked with his dog across the beach to slowly climb up to the house. Thankfully, drunk-Hank didn’t bring out sober-Hank's favorite fishing pole.

\---

After seeing the man almost look toward him, Connor receded back under the glistening water to avoid being spotted. The human had gotten a new boat, it seemed. He had considered bringing the old one back to him, but unsure if it’s bulk would prove too difficult. Besides, he was still wary of making his presence known.

When the human returned, he dipped strange fins into the water, and Connor could almost make out what he was saying to his land-dog. He wanted to observe the human more closely, and maybe prevent him from drowning if he happened to fall out again. 

\--

The first trip out on the new boat went off without a hitch. It cut smoothly against the breaking waves, and rocked Hank and Sumo gently. Speaking of, the dog was thrilled to get to wear his life jacket again. It had been ages since Hank took him out to fish.

He got a few good-sized catches and decided to call it a day. Still pretty exhausted, Hank could tell he would need to take his painkillers again. The oars fixed in place, he rowed them back to the dock, and used the support bar his doctor recommend to help him out of the boat. 

It may him feel weak, only 53 and needing something to help him stand up like this. He didn't envy people who had to deal with this their whole lives, he was still adjusting to it all himself.

With the boat secured, he patted his leg to beckon Sumo to follow, his phone chiming as he started the long journey up the stairs. 

“Hello, this is Hank,” he answered, not bothering to see who it was on the phone’s screen.

“Anderson, heard you got washed up last night,” the voice on the other end was not one for expressing sympathy, but it curled on the edges of the words as if to try. 

“Hey Gavin,” Hank greeted, stopping for a moment to prepare himself for whatever Reed was about to say next.

“You, uhhh, doing all right? Heard you had to get new boat… what the fuck happened?” The younger man asked.

Hank let out a sigh, he couldn’t really explain it himself at this point. And would Reed even believe him about it? Then; something occurred to him. He knew exactly who to ask about it later.

“Why don’t you come around to the bay tomorrow? We’ll fish, and I’ll tell you about it. Whattya say?” He asked.

A clear chuckle resonated through the phone’s speaker, “Sure, sure… be over around noon,” the phone beeped as the screen went dark.

When he got to the top of the stairs, finally, Hank could hardly imagine having to drag himself back out again today, but he needed some answers. He poured Sumo’s dinner into his bowl, took his meds, and started preparing a casserole to bring up to the Jericho Lighthouse.

\--

After the long drive up the winding hill, Hank parked where the sandy gravel ended, and knocked on the large, metal door. 

From a distance, the lighthouse looked like any other: a gleaming, white tower with spinning lights at the top. But as you got closer, you could notice the details painted around it. Different shades of off-white swirled up and around it like an ornate candy cane. The ivories and egg-shells were picked with purpose; Carl was a clever bastard to decorate the old building the way he wanted.

“Uhhh, Mr. Manfred? I brought some dinner… I was wondering if we could chat for a bit?” He spoke into the small intercom. He knocked again, “I dunno if you’re busy or, uhh, asleep… but I was wondering if I could ask you about something I saw out in the water,” he continued, unsure if he was even heard.

There was a static-y buzz, and a loud  _ clunk _ as the door unlocked, and a reply came through the small speaker, “take the elevator up to the top, Anderson.”

A little unsure, Hank nodded and did as instructed. He pulled open the gate of the old elevator, closing it behind him before selected where he needed to go: to the top, it is.

He didn’t know much about Carl Manfred. He was, at one point, a fairly famous but reclusive painter who was born and raised in the little ocean town but moved out to a big city. He took over the lighthouse about twenty years ago, promising to maintain it despite his age. The first year or two, the old man spent many days suspended against it’s plain, white walls with paint in hand. He had rules to adhere to, of course, but it became a secret treasure for the townsfolk to admire. At least… those who didn’t think Carl was absolutely crazy.

Sometime not too long after he first arrived, he spread stories at the bar about finding a beautiful fish-person by the ocean, washed up by the tide and he helped it back into the ocean.

Hank couldn’t help but wonder… was it the same one that saved him?

The elevator whirred as it brought Hank up, up, up; up as far as it could go. There was a small studio with creaky, wood floors. Papers littered the desk, while beautiful canvases lined the walls; most of them landscapes and sunsets over the ocean. “Uhhh, hello?” He called out. 

“Up here! The stairs in the corner!” An elderly voice replied from above, “I’m almost done; you can leave the food down there, we’ll have it in a bit.”

Hank set the casserole dish down on a nearby chair, struggling to get up the scrunched stairs with his bad leg, but the view was worth it. 

Carl stood a few feet away on the viewing desk, a canvas strapped to an artist’s easel in front of the white-haired lighthouse keeper. “Isn’t it lovely up here, Anderson?” He said without looking away. He was painting his view of the cliffs to the north, the sharp rocks sticking out of the foamy waters. The purples and oranges of the sunset highlighted carefully along the edges of the waves, just as it was in real life, but something about the way Carl painted it made it seem so much more ethereal.

“Wow… it’s, uh, yeah… it’s beautiful,” he stuttered out, his thoughts lost in the sight.

The painter hummed, finishing up the last few strokes before placing the brush in a tin can by his feet. “So, what is it you wanted to talk about? Must be quite the occasion to get you all the way up here.”

Leaning against the railing to support himself, Hank nodded, “yeah, I uhh… I was out in my boat during that storm last night. And I… I think I saw something,” he explained nervously.

Carl’s eyebrows lifted up, “Oh, is that so?” He confirmed, studying Hank’s face closely, “well, then let’s have some dinner, shall we?”

They returned downstairs, Carl offering to carry the casserole dish, and they took the elevator to his small living quarters toward the base of the building. It was a simple living arrangement, but well taken care of. They each got a plate of the dish, still warm thankfully, and began to eat.

“This was very thoughtful Anderson…” Carl stated after taking his first bite. “It is rare that I have a home cooked meal such as this, thank you.” 

Hank awkwardly accepted the compliment, digging in to his own plate. He wasn’t great at cooking, but fish casserole wasn’t exactly hard or particularly complicated, and it was something he enjoyed making all the same. It was his comfort food, and thankfully very hard to overcook.

“So… the old boat is gone,” he started, speaking between bites. He stared down at his food, unsure of how to explain it, but he could feel Carl’s sympathetic gaze. “I shouldn’t have gone out yesterday… the waves tossed the boat over and I fell out and into the water.” He took a deep breath, “I was rescued by something… or someone,” Hank finally looked up, “and I think you know what.”

“Oh… oh my God…” Carl gasped in disbelief, and then insisted swiftly after “did you tell anyone else?” 

Hank shook his head defensively, “no, I swear I haven’t.” 

“Good… good…” Carl relaxed in his seat, staring distractedly at the corner of the room where, somehow, more canvases leaned against the wall. Silently, he stood up toward them, sifting through them before exclaiming “ah ha!” and bringing it toward the table.

“Did the look like this?” Carl asked, holding the canvas up to Hank.

The man in the portrait sat on a stormy-black rock that nearly matched his tail, his skin a dark tan and freckled cheeks, but no hair; each eye a different color, blue and green. The figure looked out into the ocean with an confidence that Hank could only ever dream of having. But… it wasn’t the face he had seen.

He shook his head, “no… no this one different.”  _ He was… beautiful… _ Hank thought to himself.

Carl squinted his eyes, looking at the old painting again and shook his head. “I knew I wasn’t dreaming… I knew there had to be...” He set the canvas down, returning to his meal. “You do know the stories, don’t you?” He asked Hank, scooping a piece of cooked fish onto his fork.

“Yeah, yeah, something about granting your wish or whatever,” Hank shrugged. “He’s probably long gone now, anyway.”

“I see,” Carl replied pensively. “Well, if you ever see him again, I’d love to hear about it.”

__  
  
  
  


\--

__  
  
  


He couldn’t get the one, brief glimpse of the creature’s face out of his thoughts all night.

Hank woke up groggily, wiping his face and the crusts from his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable four hours of sitting out on the ocean with Gavin Reed. He had a much bigger boat, which was always tricky to climb onto, but it was a much smoother ride than his own. Besides, he still needed to get a new engine for the one Ben let him have for a steal.

Hank gathered his gear, and waited by the dock for the sound of Reed’s obnoxious boat to come around. He was late, which didn’t surprise Hank in the slightest.

“Good morning ya crazy, ol’ bastard!” Reed called out, stalling his engine far enough away so he wouldn’t crash into the dock. 

“Yeah, yeah, same to you,” Hank retorted, grabbing the lead that his friend tossed and securing his boat to the long side of the dock. “Still got those stairs?”

Gavin hissed through his teeth, “shit, I think I left it back at the house… want me to hoist you up?” 

“Oh fuck that, you couldn’t even if you tried,” Hank groaned. “I can handle the ladder, but you’ll have to get Sumo in here.”

Gavin hopping off the side of the boat, lifting the enormous hound as Hank meticulously took on the ladder rung by rung. He wasn’t gonna let stop him. Once they were all secured and life-jacketed, Gavin started up the boat again and they sailed out into the ocean. Thankfully, he knew to stock a few six-packs of beer for the two of them.

\--

Connor watched from a distance as Hank climbed the larger watercraft with his land-dog and the other human. He imagined it would move so much slower because of its size, but the strange, white vessel proved difficult to keep up with. They went out much further than Hank had before, and without anything to hide under, he had to be more careful observing them.

When they finally stopped, his gills ruffled in relief, and he stayed directly under the boat until they threw their strange strings out into the water.

Connor also enjoyed the taste of fish, but only every so often. The little creatures were friendly enough, and he would play with them when he felt lonely; but they were also incredibly stupid, and didn’t make for much conversation. He assumed that Hank was catching fish to bring back to the other humans who could not do it for themselves. The human must’ve been highly respected and adored for his efforts.

It became boring hanging around alone, sometimes chasing the fish toward their hooked lures, sometimes waving at a passing seal or quietly swimming whale. After some silence from above, he poked his head up from under the water, hoping to not alert the land-dog of his presence. But then, the other human spoke up.

“Hey, you every try fishing nets?” He asked Hank, scuffling and footsteps coming from the top of the boat.

“Nah, always felt kinda like cheating…” Hank replied, the deep voice making Connor smile a little.

Hasty steps thudded above, “Awwww, c’mon Hank. I’ll even show you how… although I’ve lost a few out here. Some of those bigger fish are pretty unruly,” said not-Hank, and Connor shifted in the water nervously.

Suddenly, the land-dog started barking, and he disappeared back under the water as the two humans loudly ran to the side of the boat. That had been too close; he started to swim down, making sure he wouldn’t be seen, resting his chin in the meat of his palm as he stretched out aloft the seaweed.

A moment later, something touched the top of his head, and then his shoulders. Thick, scratchy strands covered him, with heavy rocks at the ends. A single cord strayed, and when pulled taught suddenly Connor found himself being taken away by the trap. His tailfin was too constricted to properly swim, so he grabbed a section of the pulled rope that disappeared above the surface and began trying to undo the knot that connected it to the net. He had been trapped in one of these once before, but not one nearly this strong. Before he got too close to the surface, he managed to separate the cord away, retreated further below to try and break free.

He tried for hours, drifting closer and closer to the shore. At one point he heard the loud boat pass him back to land, but he finagled the heavy net so he could at least follow slowly. The sunlight was fading away quickly, and soon it would be too dark for him to see. Being caught up like this made him unbearably anxious, nervous that he’d never be free again.

He got closer to the shore where he had first left Hank, still trying to break away when a strong wave sent him backwards into a rock that he couldn’t avoid. He felt a sharp thud against his skull, and darkness fell over him.

\--

Gavin walked Hank back up to the house, which the older man took as a sign as wanting dinner cooked for him. All he had were leftovers, but his friend graciously didn’t mind. They talked a little while longer, and just as the sun started to set, they went back down to the dock. 

“Damn net… still not sure what happened with that thing!” Gavin spat, climbing up into his boat, “If you see it, let me know if it worked.” he asked.

Hank chuckled, “sure thing, Reed. I’ll see you around.”

Gavin clicked his tongue, giving Hank finger guns, and set off back home.

Sumo was exploring the shore, pawing at the smaller fish that swam daringly near the water’s edge. Hank stood aimlessly on the dock, and noticed that there would be another rather nice sunset soon. Soon it would be too cold to enjoy them out on the dock, so he managed himself down to sit on the edge of the dock, sneaker-covered feet dangling just at the water’s edge. 

He had been thinking about his conversation with Carl… how many other merfolk could be out there? Were they only in this area, or around the world? Heaving a sigh, he looked out over the ocean as the waves lapped at his feet.

Sumo had wandered off somewhere, barking at his heart’s content. At least someone was having fun.

The large animal came up beside his owner, nuzzling into Hank’s lap with an urgent  _ boof _ . “Hey buddy,” Hank said, scratching Sumo’s favorite spot under his neck. But usually, the big oaf would lay down and ask for belly rubs at a time like this. Instead, the dog continued to bark, making whining noises and pacing back and forth, as if waiting for Hank.

“You crazy dog… hang on, hang on… I’m getting up,” he grunted, pulling himself up with some difficulty from the long day. Sumo ran down the dock and along the beach, “I’m coming, see? Can you wait just a fuckin’ minute?” 

Further up the beach was a rocky area that Hank hadn’t visited in a long time, lots of large boulders around and much more secluded than the rest of the shoreline. He rounded one of the larger ones, following his suddenly-crazy dog. He looked down with a weighted gasp, clutching his chest.

Tangled up in the rope net that Gavin had thrown off the boat earlier was a young man with a long grey-and-blue tail where his legs should be. It… couldn’t be…

It was hard, but Hank could manage to kneel down on one of his legs long enough to help. The creature wasn’t struggling, or awake from the looks of it. Pulling a utility knife from his pocket, he started to cut away at the harsh rope with the serrated blade. Once he got a few sections cut, he tugged the net away, and his heart thumped as he saw the face unobstructed once more.

Brown hair, soft and curling but weighed down with water. Plush cheeks with little marks and freckles that continued down his body, and the skin shimmered in the fading sunlight. Leaning closer, he saw the little marks were a dark blue… it was remarkable. He also noticed at the closer angle that there was also something blue in the sand behind his head. A strange, thick liquid stained the sand; Hank bit his lip, now even more nervous about touching the stranger if he was injured. 

Before he could move another muscle, eyelashes fluttered open, and he saw the trusting brown eyes look up at him. The merman’s mouth fell open, as he sat upright, looking around and seeing the half-started job of freeing him from the net.

Hank flinched, “right! Sorry, sorry… I…” he looked away, continuing to work his knife through the fibers. “I just… I can’t believe you’re really…”

Something in the back of Hank’s mind, probably his mother, slapped him for forgetting his manners.

He looked back up at the merman’s face, “Oh! Uhhh… thank you, by the way…. Thank you for saving my life that night,” he said. The merman gave him a surprised and almost blank stare, but smiled slightly at the words and opened his mouth again. Frustration drew his brown eyebrows together, unable to reply to Hank.

The human nodded as he cut the last few offending lengths of rope. “Can’t talk, huh? That’s all right… uhh… I wish I knew what your name was, though.” They exchanged another quick look, but the merman could only shrug sadly. “Well… I’m Hank Anderson. I hope you weren’t too badly hurt from Gavin’s stupid net.” Hank tossed aside the cut up trawl, and then found a cold hand pressed against his cheek that drew his gaze back at the merman. The young body moved closer to him, bringing their faces merely inches apart. Hank could see the cheeks tinted in a light teal-blue, complimenting nicely with the blue of his other features.

The merman mouthed “Hank”, the “k” sound clicking in the back of his throat. 

“Uhhh.. huuhhh…” Hank wasn’t sure if he was even still breathing. Was he? Did he even exist? He didn’t know… all he knew was the look of absolute sincerity directed at him made his stomach churn with warmth and strangeness.

The last fading light of the sun dimmed away, and Hank steadied himself to stand back up, “you stay safe out there, all right? Us humans don’t know if you’re real… well, most of us… I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.” He said, looking down as the merman scooted further toward the splashing water. 

The merman looked over his shoulder to Hank, nodding, before slipping away into the ocean to swim back to deeper waters.

__  
  
  
  



	2. Siren Song

When Hank woke up, he was honestly not sure if the last few days actually happened. The other two likely scenarios were that he was dead, or just dreaming. It certainly, definitely, could not have been real.

 

Which is why he definitely didn’t freak out when he went out in the stupid boat just after breakfast, and a familiar face popped out of the water. 

 

“AAAAH! FUCK!” He shrieked, nearly dropping the fishing pole off the side of the boat.

 

The merman disappeared back into the water for a moment, and then reappeared as he tried to hide the giddy smile on his face. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up… gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack… what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be off… I don’t know, bathing in a lagoon or something?” He asked, silently thankful that he didn’t bring Sumo, since the dog would already be in the water by now.

 

Bringing his head fully back above water, the merman shrugged and paddled around Hank’s boat, ducking under the fishing line. 

 

“Hmmmph…” Hank snorted a small laugh at the teasing creature, checking his bobber for any nibbles. “So, there are other mer-people?” A nod. “Huh… are you guys like… everywhere?” He asked.

 

The merman wanted to reply, forgetting that he couldn’t speak above water, and frowned as he continued to push himself in a circle by his tailfin.

 

“Right… why don’t I stick to ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions then… sound good?” Hank asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod, and a backwards flip to boot. His boat rocked from the small splash, and he laughed a little more openly. “All right… so let’s see…do you really breathe with your tail? With gills and stuff?” 

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

“Okay… do you… eat fish?”

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

“Huh! Okay… do you talk to fish? Cuz that’d be kinda awkward if you could…”

 

A silent giggle,  _ “no.” _

 

Hank smirked, “Are you…. Are you really magic?”

 

There was a small twinkle in the brown eyes, and then a wink.   
  
“Fair enough… so… are there other mer-people around?”

 

The merman stopped, and tread water in one spot as he looked off at skyline to the east. He looked lost… almost guilty. 

 

“So, not around I take it. OK… are you…. Lost?” 

 

There was a nod, but it looked a little half-hearted, like it wasn’t the whole answer.

 

“All right… well, I don’t think I’ll be much help, since you’re the only one I’ve seen.”

 

The merman dove under for a moment, leaving Hank confused, put jumped out with a splash and gripped the edge of the boat to lean against it. Tilting his head, he pointed toward Hank intently.

 

“Me? Uhhh… oh! You wanna know about me?” 

 

The merman smiled brightly, nodding an emphatic  _ “yes!” _

 

“Heh… well, that’s a long story, my friend…. Not even sure where to start really…” Looking around, the merman pointed to the fishing rod, and then to Hank. “Ohhh, why am I out here fishing? Uhhhh, well… I used to be a poli- ummm, I used to protect people. But I got hurt a few years back so now I do this. It’s relaxing, but kinda lonely after doing it for so long.”

 

It was strange to Hank how absolutely invested the merman seemed to be in his story, his head tilting to the side when he wasn’t quite sure of something… like a dog. Hank wanted to smack himself; he was definitely  _ not _ catching feelings for some sweet, mysterious fish-man. Well, he had nothing to lose by telling him  _ everything _ , did he? Maybe it would help to tell someone other than the crabby, old therapist.

 

He described the car accident on the freezing October night, the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles that still haunted him. His young son, the only precious thing he had left in his lonely life, lifeless in the backseat. He was pulled from the car, and tried to get up, only for his left leg to give out in a flash of blinding pain that made him collapse.

 

Hank leg was beyond repairable by the time he had finally been taken to a hospital. It would still function well enough, but the mobility was severely limited. So, painkillers in the morning and at night, and a healthy dose of anxiety medications with dinner.

 

The merman listened on, arms folded on the edge of the boat, head rested as he absorbed every word. Hank felt a little lighter having told him… there was something unsettlingly trusting about the creature. He didn't interrupt, and even if he could didn't look like he would have. 

 

By the time he was done, Hank was sniffing and fighting back some prickling tears. He wiped them away before they had the chance to fall. “Well.. you've listened to this old man speak long enough…” The merman shook his head, “What, the ‘old man’ part?” 

 

_ “Yes,” _ the merman nodded. 

 

“Well I'm fifty three, you hardly look over thirty, yourself…” 

 

The merman bit his lip, smiling and eyes squeezing closed as he laughed. 

 

Hank stared at him, dumbfounded, “Well, I’m not exactly read up on the lifespan of a fish person… how old are you?” The merman blushed, diving into the water to hide it. “Awww, c’mon, I won't judge!”

 

He reemerged, rolling his eyes, and then held up two fingers. 

 

“Two… okay, that's a start.”

 

Then, five fingers, and then a single finger as he disappeared under the water again.

 

Hank's mouth dropped, “YEARS??” he asked. There was a splash behind him, and he turned as he clarified. “You are… let me get this straight… two hundred and fifty one years old?”

 

The merman shrugged, a little confused. 

 

“Maybe not years, huh? Okay… that still seems like a lot, whatever it is,” he grumbled. 

 

The water-dwelling companion hung around the boat the rest of the afternoon, sometimes bringing a fish or two to Hank, so he was able to head back early. 

 

It was a silent trip back to the dock, and Hank knew it was because the merman wouldn't be able to leave the water. He felt a little guilty… the poor creature, despite their limited conversation abilities, seemed thrilled to hang around with him. He was lost, and Hank wondered for how long. 

 

He climbed out of the boat, trying to avoid the sad face in the water as he tied it off and lifted the cooler out of the hull.

 

Taking a brave breath at the edge of the dock, he started to lower himself down to sit, wincing and grunted from the ache of his leg. The merman waded in the waves before him, head lowered.

 

“Hey… I know… it's not easy being alone and shit. I'm really sorry you can't come up,” he sympathized, the sadness in the eyes looking back at him tugged at his heart. 

 

And then, Hank spoke, “If I could have anything right now, it would be for you to join me up here on land, legs and all.”

 

The merman recoiled, clutching himself as if he were in pain. A bright light shot out through his chest, throwing his head back in surprise, the glow spreading outwards until he was a blinding star in the ocean 

 

Hank  _ panicked. _ “Shit…. Oh fuck!! What did I do??” He clambered back to his feet, sprinted as quickly as he could around the dock, throwing off his shoes and wading through the water to the blue-ish glow where the merman had been. He steadied himself with the edge of the dock, forearm shielding his eyes until the light dimmed. The merman was a little further out than Hank could reach safely, but he saw his upper body floating on the top of the water. His eyes closed and unmoving.

 

“No!!! Damnit!!!” He reached out for a hand, gripping the man's wrist and pulling the body to the shore, where the man jolted awake. The wrist was pulled from Hank's grip, and he staggered backwards upon the shore, watching the form crawl up the sand and away from the gentle waves.

 

The merman was held up by his hands, suddenly breathing in air from his mouth, gasping at it in confusion. Hank watched as he pushed himself up, clumsily, held up by a pair of shaking, skinny legs. His body was perfectly sculpted for him, but between his legs was merely a plain curve of skin where any genitals would be. Hank's heart pounded loud enough that his ears hurt.

 

But, the round eyes looked at him joyously as the new legs tried to bring him forward toward Hank. The young man tripped forward, and Hank caught him by the elbows.

 

“Hello… H-Hank. My name is Connor!”

  
  


“C-Connor…” the name, the way he  _ said _ his own name…. Hank repeated it back like a prayer. “Connor. But… but you…”

 

The naked man before him smiled sweetly, “seeing as you saved me the last night, it appears your desire for me to become human like you-”

 

Hank slapped his forehead.

 

_ OF COURSE _ . That crazy poem-y, legend thing. He remembered hearing about it when Carl first told the town he had seen a merperson. But he could barely think straight enough to remember it; not when he had a naked,  _ gorgeous _ thing in his arms. On the beach. 

 

Thank goodness no one was around.

 

Taking a sharp inhale, Hank released his grip and started to take his light jacket off, glancing down at Connor's lower half just long enough to wrap the sleeves around and cover his lacking lower pelvis.

 

Connor merely looked at him with happy confusion, but spoke up when Hank was done. “Thank you, I think…” 

 

“Uhhh… c'mon… let's get you something else to wear up at the house,” he said, leading the newly-human person to the stairs. 

 

“May I assist you up this hill, Hank?” Connor asked, his own steps faltering as he followed closely behind.

 

Hank snorted a chuckle, earning a pout from the brunet, “let’s both just take this a few steps at a time, yeah?” 

 

As they started up the rocky stairs, Hank realized that they could properly communicate now. Not to mention, the melodically soothing voice of the other man was something he could listen to all day. “Ummm… so a few questions, now that we can talk…” he started, giving a grunt as he pushed himself to keep going despite his leg screaming for him to lay down and give up.   
  
“Ah, yes! Ummm… what would you like to know?” Connor replied, hiding his own difficulty poorly.

 

“Two hundred and fifty one… what, exactly? Not years?” He asked.

 

Connor hummed, “No… well, I don’t believe we measure time in the same way humans do. We migrate as the waters change in warmth. The cold and warm season; so, I am that many seasons old.”

 

Hank wouldn’t be the first to admit that math was not his strong suit, but it didn’t make much brain power to know that even half of over two hundred was MUCH older than he was. That made his head spin a little

 

“Okay… all right… so… what about the others? The other mer-people…” He continued up a few more steps, but the footfalls behind him stopped. He turned, his fear confirmed when he saw the other man stare off sadly. “Sorry… we can talk about it later, yeah?”

 

Connor looked up at him, nodding, and lifted a leg to continue up.

 

It seemed like ages by the time the finally go to the porch of the small oceanside cabin; nautical decor adorning the pale blue walls inside and out. Hank opened the squeaky front door, the jingling sound of Sumo’s collar approaching quickly. The dog passed right by him, opting for smelling the strangely familiar but new person that was hardly clothed. 

 

“Hello! My name is Conn- OOF!” He greeted the dog exuberantly, suddenly having his arms full of fur as the dog jumped up on him.

 

Seeing the man suddenly preoccupied, Hank escaped to his bedroom to find something better for him to wear. The main problem being, of course, that anything he owned would either be too big, or incredibly old. He pulled a plastic bin on the floor out from under his bed, ruffling through the piles of folded band t-shirts for any kind of pants that could fit Connor’s skinny hips. Even in his prime Hank was never that small…

 

Lucky for him, he had a small pair of cargo shorts left behind by a one night stand  _ years _ ago that he couldn’t quite forget about (although… maybe now he could…), and found the one band tshirt he owned that wasn’t black.

 

When he got back to the living room, he found his dog on the floor with arms and legs splayed out beneath him. “I see you met Sumo,” Hank said.

 

The face appeared from under the dog, cheeks wet from drool. “Your land-dog companion is very soft… and he is quite strong! He must be quite the protector,” Connor commented, effortlessly pushing himself out from under the ball of fur to reveal that the coat around his hips had fallen away.

 

Hank turned away at the sight, “here… uhh… I brought you some clothes.”

 

Connor approached him, taken the two pieces of clothes. “I… I’m not sure if I…”

 

Right… of course… he’s never dealt with the wonders of human society and its dumb proclivities. “Okay, all right… uhhh…” Hank took the shirt and shorts back, tossing the latter over his shoulder to deal with in a second. One problem at a time. “So… if you wouldn’t mind, hold you arms out but keep them a little bendy while I put this over your head.”

 

“Sure, Hank.” Connor agreed.

 

The process went a lot smoother than Hank had anticipated, even for the pants part. Connor had to steady himself on his broad shoulders as he lifted each leg, and Hank squished his eyes shut tight both times. He didn’t even want to think about what could be going on down there that couldn't be seen from the front. 

 

Finally dressed, Connor could probably pass as a human. The long shorts fit surprisingly well, and the pale grey t-shirt contrasted with his dark hair and eyes. Hank nodded, looking him over, and adding a final touch of flip-flops for his feet.

 

“SHIT!” Hank suddenly exclaimed, “the fish! Fuck… fuck fuck fuck… we have to go back down and get the cooler,” he groaned. The damn walk down to the dock was gonna kill him one of the days.

 

“I could retrieve it for you, please?” Connor offered, bouncing excitedly.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hank weighed his options. The guy could use more practice on those new legs of his, and Hank really,  _ really _ needed to sit down for a minute. “Sure, all right… just be careful. Don’t run in those things on your feet, you got it?”

 

“Got it!” Connor said, rushing out the door and letting it slam closed. 

  
  


He desperately wanted to make Hank happy, and not just because the man had freed him the other night. There was something else… something he couldn’t quite name as he felt the soft clothes on his strange, new body, and started walking down the long path down to the shore.

 

He got about half-way, when he started to feel tired, lethargic. It was harder to breathe, which had already been a strange change on its own, and his vision wavered as he fell to his knees. He moaned in discomfort, looking down at his legs. His grey and blue scales had started reforming along his leg; he clung to the railing, sitting himself down as the air became too dry and painful.

 

“Ha-HANK! Hank, I-I need help!” He cried out, words dying in his throat. He leaned back, head light and limbs heavy as they pulsed; he was suffocating as he tried to retain his human form.

 

A few minutes later, he could vaguely hear the uneven steps coming down, and then a loud cry as they got closer. Everything hurt a little less, and there was a gentle slap on his face, and he looked up dizzily.

 

“Your legs! My god, what happened?!” Hank asked, voice full of worry and panic, Sumo following closely behind.

 

“I-” Connor coughed a little as breathing became a little easier through his strange new lungs, “I think I must stay close to you. Your request was rather specific,” Connor explained, both of them watching Sumo bound down to the beach without them.

 

“Oh, this magic shit has a fucking special radius or you turn back?!” Hank said loudly, mostly because he was also out of breath.

 

“Correct,” Connor said, reaching out for something to grip to help him up. Once upright again, he felt much better, and his legs returned to their fleshy peach-pink. 

 

Hank had tossed aside a walking cane,  which he could now retrieve, and breathlessly motioned for Connot to follow him.

 

Down seemed to be easier than up to Connor, and as they got closer to the bottom he passed by Hank and jumped the last few steps to stick a landing in the sand. Delicately he removed the blue, foam sandals, letting his feet sink into the sand. 

 

His toes wiggled around, and he looked up to see Sumo galloping along the coast happily. 

  
  


Hank watched, as he worked to catch up, as the man started to walk across the beach, picking up speed until he was pumping his arms into a full run. It was pretty impressive, the guy was adapting pretty quickly. He pressed on to get the damn cooler, his dog and the young brunet dashing past him. It seemed to be a game, not quite a race, but even when they were a hundred yards away he could hear the man giggling and speaking to Sumo as they dashed back and forth.

 

Sumo was in the lead, and a particularly strong wave washed upon the shore, and the man finally lost his footing and tripped into a tumble. Hank could only feel so bad for laughing at the sight, but started up toward him to make sure he didn’t already injured something.

 

The clothes has some sand on them, but he must have been unharmed since he was still chuckling. “That was most enjoyable, Hank.” Connor confirmed as Hank dusted sand off of the clothes. “Did you acquire your basket of fish?” He asked, leading the way back up.

 

Hank smiled, “yeah, I got it. Looks like I'm bringing you into town with me while I sell them.” 

 

“Sell?” Connor asked.

 

“Yeah, uhhh…” Hank gave a small frown, “I give the fish to some other people, who give me money to get other stuff that isn't fish. Like, food for Sumo.”

 

“Ahhh…” Connor replied, clearly thinking about it but still looking a little lost. 

 

Hank reached into his pocket, “Aha!” He pulled out a quarter, handing it to Connor. “Like this! It’s not a lot of money, but that's kinda what it looks like.”

 

Connor looked down at the silvery coin in his palm, and then twirled it between his fingers as he observed the strange designs on both sides. “Thank you…” he muttered, catching up to Hank.

 

With Sumo in the backseat, and the fish-out-of-water-man buckled into the passenger side, Hank pulled his truck out of the driveway and down the road toward town, pointing out the lighthouse on their way. “I think later we will head up there; there is someone who I think would like to see you.”

 

Connor cocked his head to the side, “Oh? I do not know any other humans besides you…”

 

“No, no…. But he has met another mer-person.”

 

With a sharp  _ thwack _ , Connor braced himself with his arms against the car door and the storage compartment between their two seats. “When? WHERE?”

 

Hank glanced over nervously, raising a hand to calm him down. “Around here… but a long ago.” Connor relaxed a little in his seat, but desperation still curled his lips downward. “People around here didn’t believe him, but he made a drawing of the one he saw…. Maybe you will recognize them?” He explained, looking over again to see Connor nod a little solemnly. “And maybe later… you can tell me what happened?” They got into town, Hank pulling the truck into a parking space along the main drag.

 

“Yes… I- I think I would like to… later,” Connor replied.

 

Hank sighed, taking the keys out if the ignition and putting a hand on Connor's shoulder. “You wanna stay in the car, or come along?” 

 

Connor's face lightened, “I would like to come; I would like to meet these other humans,” he said.

 

Hank smiled at him, unbuckled both of them and hopping out of the vehicle. He opened the door for Sumo, too, who stubbornly stayed in the car seat. “Fine, Fine…” Hank grumbled, turning the truck back on to open the windows for the lazy furball. 

 

Cooler in hand, Hank walked to the local grocery store with Connor close behind, going straight to the service counter. “Good morning, Tina.”

 

The perky Asian woman looked up from her newspaper, smiling, “Heya Hank! This morning's catch in there?” She said, pointing to the blue and white plastic bin, and then looked up. “Speaking of catches, who's your friend there?” 

 

“Hello, my name is Connor!” The man introduced, waving a hand to her.

 

“I'm Tina… you from out of town?” She asked.

 

_ Fuck… _ Hank should have expected twenty-questions about Connor. Everybody knew everybody in this little town. “Yeah he's uh... visiting.”

 

“Nice, from where?”

 

Before Hank could answer for him, Connor piped up, “I traveled here from the land where the sands are white and the ocean is clear and calm.”

 

Hank held his breath, but Tina merely chuckled, “Sounds like the Caribbean… well, welcome to Jericho!” She said, opening the cash register beside her, “Let's talk business, Anderson.”

 

Connor watched silently and curiously as Hank haggled with her for the fish. Tina was a much harder sell than her father; she was a stickler for perfection. 

 

When they finished, Hank handed a shopping basket to Connor. “You mind carrying this? I have some stuff to pick up.” He explained, to which Connor nodded.

 

They slowly meandered through the aisles, Connor quietly asking about certain items, especially the ones in brightly colored packages. They got to a section with snacks, and he grabbed a bag of fish-shaped cheese crackers from the shelf and held it up to Hank. “Hank, look!!” The bag rattled a little as he showed it off, a little surprised by the sound.

 

Hank smiled, “Yeah, we can get those. Put ‘em on the basket.” He had a feeling Connor would be fairly surprised by how not-fishy they were gonna taste. “Hey, so, do you have any dietary restrictions? Like… Stuff you can't eat?”

 

Connor stroked his chin, thinking hard, “Well, there are certain plant roots and leaves we can not digest, however, I think since this is a human body, the same nutritional needs would apply to me, as well.” 

 

“OK… so I guess I should pick up some vegetables or something,” Hank rolled his eyes, grabbing a couple cans of baked beans to put into the basket.

 

Hank paid for their haul, with a little extra money left over since Connor had helped him get a lot of good fish earlier. They put the groceries in the back of the truck, so Sumo couldn’t help himself, and Hank lead him across the street to the small, used clothing co-op across the street.

 

Thankfully, Kara was working today. “Hey Kara… my, uh- friend Connor here is from out of town had his suitcase lost by the airline. Think you can help me find him some clothes on a budget?” He asked, failing at not sounding too desperate.

 

But, Kara smiled, “sure! Follow me Connor, we should have some stuff in your size.” 

 

Hank’s nerves eased a little, and then he felt a tug on his jacket, “Mr. Anderson, who’s your friend?” 

 

He looked down to see Alice, Kara’s foster daughter, staring up at him with her plush fox in her arms. “He’s, uhh, he’s another fisherman. He’s visiting for a while, I think…” 

 

“He seems kinda… weird,” she said bluntly, but not in a mean way.

 

Hank snorted a little at the comment, “Yeah, he’s a bit different, but that’s okay.” 

 

He glanced over, seeing Connor smiling and nodding as Kara held up some different options for him. Connor must’ve been pretty strong, the way he picked up Sumo earlier and learned to use those legs so quickly; but he was also so gentle and courteous. Maybe a little too naive at this point… but, Hank wondered if Connor even  _ wanted _ to be human like this. He didn’t seem to mind when he was transformed. He wasn’t gonna keep him around forever if Connor had a family to get back to...

 

Hank tried to bury the thoughts away, fussing through a nearby rack of coats. His own winter coat was so torn up he had to throw it away, he’d need to get a new one before the weather snuck up on him…

 

“Well, Connor, I think that looks good! What do you think, Hank?” Kara asked, drawing Hank’s eyes up.

 

The old cargo shorts had been replaced with blue jeans, and a light blue tartan-plaid button down draped over Hank’s tshirt. The cheap flip flops had also been forgone for a pair of black canvas sneakers. Connor gave a little spin, attempting to study for himself how he looked. If Hank had been holding something, he would’ve dropped it to the floor without a care.

 

“I think he looks rather nice, don’t you?” Kara said.

 

Hank half-nodded, exchanged a knowing smile with Connor, “it looks really great on you.”

 

Connor’s cheek’s turned pink, “Thank you…”

 

They paid, having more than enough thankfully, and waved goodbye as they went back to the truck. “That was very enjoyable… however, is it really necessary to have so many ‘clothes’ on all the time?” 

 

“Eh… you just kinda get used to it, I guess,” Hank explained, unlocking the car doors and giving Sumo a quick pat on the head.

 

Connor hopped into his seat, rubbing his hands together. “It just seems awfully strange…”

 

The engine hummed to life, and they drove back the way they came, “well, you’re not wrong. Humans are just strange, I suppose.”

 

\--

 

Hank decided that if he was going to drop in on Carl Manfred again, it would be best if he made him dinner again…. And probably not another casserole. Unfortunately, Hank didn’t know how to cook a lot of things, so he unloaded a couple boxes of pasta shells into a pot of boiling water. From the other room, he could here Connor quietly talking to Sumo, which he apparently enjoyed doing quite a lot, and looking through Hank’s variety of odds and ends. 

 

Books and chachkis lined the shelves of his living room, the silly nautical decorations like ropes and anchors. 

 

“Hank?!” Connor called from the other room.

 

Curious, he turned down the stove to investigate, “yeah?”

 

Connor was holding a picture frame, “this is… this is you, with your son… isn’t it?” 

 

Hank stepped closer, careful not to look at the photo itself, “it is. I… heh… I look a lot different now, don’t I?” He said.

 

The picture was burned in his mind; it was the last picture he took with Cole. They had traveled up the coast for a camping trip, the 6-year-old happily grinning with a dinky fish attached to his fishing line. Hank was kneeling beside him, hand holding his son’s shoulder. Even though it was four years ago, Hank looked like he had aged almost ten.

 

A sound came from the kitchen, and Hank rounded the corner to catch the pot just before it boiled over. “Hey, can you help me out?” He called back to Connor, who joined him almost immediately. “In the cabinet down there, there should be a metal bowl with holes in it, can you get it out for me?”

 

While Connor didn’t quite understand the term ‘cabinet’, he opened one of the small doors and pulled a coulander out while Hank stirred the cooked pasta. “Thanks,” he said, placing it into the sink and draining away the water. Connor watched curiously as the man sifted the pasta around in the slotted metal bowl, shaking the noodles back into the hot pan and opening the fridge to finish adding some extras. “My mom used to make this for me,” he explained as he set each item down on the counter. “She’d make it a little more mild for us kids, but now I season it a little too much, I think.” 

 

He poured two jars of alfredo sauce, a bag of frozen peas and gave it a couple shakes of red chili flakes. “The peas will thaw as the sauce heats up… hope you’re hungry,” he winked.

 

After a few minutes, he transferred the pasta into a pyrex dish so there was enough for all three of them, and a little extra for Carl to have as leftovers. The day was already breaking… but so much had happened, Hank was surprised it wasn’t even later. They pulled up to the lighthouse just after seven, and the bearded man felt a little strange coming to call again so soon. 

 

He pressed the button on the intercom, Connor standing pin straight beside him.   
  
“Hey…. uhh Mr. Manfred? It’s Hank, again… I have a guest with me, I think the two of you may have a lot to talk about.” 

 

The door buzzed and clicked, allowed them inside, “I’m up at the top again… I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

 

Connor stared curiously at the intercom before Hank dragged him inside, “c’mon, ya goofball, he’s inside.”

 

The young-looking man’s absolute awe continued as they rode the small elevator up to small living quarters, following Hank until a few of the pictures caught his eyes.

 

“Does Mr. Manfred… make these?” He asked, observing them but not daring to touch. The elevator car whirred as it disappeared up to the top.

 

“Yeah, he paints a lot. I’ll have to bring you around when the sun’s out so you can see the outside of the lighthouse too,” Hank said, uncovering the dish and looking around for some bowls and forks. 

 

The metal of the elevator gate squeaked as the elderly man stepped out, “this is quite the surprise, Anderson,” he remarked warmly, before turning to the other, curious guest. “A friend of Hank’s is a friend of mine. Welcome,” Carl greeted, observing the stranger in his home.

 

“Hello, my name is Connor,” the man greeted.   
  
“Hey Carl,” Hank called over, setting the bowls on the small table. “That picture you showed me… can you show it to Connor?”

 

Their host peered at Hank, doing a double take back and forth between the two guests, “well, all right…” He flicked through the various canvases on the wall, pulling one from the pile and handing it to Connor. 

 

He took the painting in hand, careful to hold it by the edges. “M-markus,” Connor stammered, and then glanced up with knowing eyes. “You’re the human who-” his breaths became rushed and heavy, and he clutched his chest as his knees felt weak. 

 

Seeing the young man’s distress and the strange changes around them, Carl carefully took the painting from his hands and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “there now, try to relax. How do you know him?” He looked over as Hank approached, “Anderson… who is this? What’s going on?”

 

Connor slumped to the floor, shaking inconsolably as the lights above them flickered, “they…. they’re all gone.” 

 

In unison, the two other men replied with a surprised “ _ What? _ ”

 

“Hank I… I told you I was lost. But really, it’s the others who are lost. They disappeared, and I… I’ve been searching for them for so long….” a small sob escaped his mouth.

 

Hank leaned down, “Connor… what are you talking about?” 

 

Lifted into a wicker dining chair, the sullen voice continued, “around the beginning of the warmer months… I awoke alone, and could not find any of my family anywhere.” He glanced over at the turned canvas a few feet away. “Markus… Markus is a brother of mine… but you!” He looked up at Carl, with longing in his eyes. “He told us of you… the human who told him to come home to us.”

 

The old painter smiled sadly, “I always wondered - wondered where he had gone, and if he was happy.”

 

Connor nodded, “he was. More so when he returned to us.”

 

Carl stood, to looked over at the table set for dinner, “would the two of you like to hear a story?”

 

\--

 

_ I came to this town when I was about your age, Anderson, recently divorced. As the breadwinner, I failed when I decided to pursue my passion for art, and my partner decided that it would be better if our son grew up in a more reliably stable home. It became very clear to me that I would never get to see Leo again, and it broke my heart. _

 

_ I had heard from an old friend that this old lighthouse needed a new keeper, so I took what I could pack into my van and drove here from Detroit. _

 

_ A few days in, the loneliness and grief consumed me, so I began exploring the rocky coast. I looked for shells and collected garbage, anything to distract myself. I heard voices before me, and cautiously I approached.  _

 

_ In a cavern, two young men, tourists I assume, were grunting and I could hear that awful thumping as they kicked someone. I threw rocks at them, distracting them long enough until I hit one of the thugs with a larger stone, and they ran away like cowards.  _

 

_ I climbed around the rocks into the cavern, illuminated by the sunlight in the refracting waves, and that is where I saw him _

 

_ That merman, laying on the rocky floor, several feet from the water. I dragged him, carefully as I could, into the water with me. I was so afraid he was dead, but as he hit the water his eyes came awake. But, he could not speak as he tried to thank me. _

 

_ “What I would give to hear your stories…” I said to him, “I wish I could hear you.” _

 

_ A shining light came from his throat, and as it faded, he spoke to me. _

 

_ “You saved me,” he said to me, wary but unafraid. “Why?” _

 

_ I told him, “I saw those two men hurting you, and I decided to act. I suppose you could have provoked them, but the fight was unfair, two against one… what is your name?” _

 

_ “My name is Markus, and you?” _

 

_ “I'm Carl…” _

 

_ The merman smiled, a sight to behold, and I noticed his mismatching eyes. Blue and green, the two colors of the oceans and seas, remarkable. “My people,” he started to explain, “and my mother, they say we should stay away from humans. But… I believe we could have peace between us. And now that I am human, I can show the humans we mean no harm to us,” he said, fire in his eyes.  _

 

_ I shook my head, telling him “I wish for peace in every moment of my life, but I know humans. Peace is hard for them, even on the best of times. They hunt and kill, they have wreaked havoc on this world.” I begged him, “you have a family, and they must love you. I have a son who I would give anything to see again, and I'm sure your mother would mourn your loss the rest of your life if you act too recklessly.” I gripped his hands, “I will take care of you, if you stay… but you shouldn't. You should not give up who you are for an easy way out.” _

 

_ He looked at me, hearing my words and nodding sadly, and I felt his hands pulse against mine. He said to me, “you are likely right… my brothers and sisters need me, as does my mother. Maybe one day, when humans have learned to be better, I may return to you.” And then, he frowned, “your body… your back is weak.” _

 

_ I laughed, ‘what a strange thing to say’, I thought. “It has always given me troubles, but it is mine.” _

 

_ His hands broke away from mine, a kind glint in his eyes as he started to swim away. “You should take care of it, and make it strong, or it will break.” And with that… he left. _

 

_ \-- _

 

“Heading the strange advice, I saw a doctor in Boston, and they said of I had waited any longer to treat my the problem on my spine, I would be paralyzed.” Carl said, taking a bite of the pasta. “I have never forgotten his hope and strength, and I have him to thank for keeping me on my feet all these years.” 

 

Connor had barely touched his own meal, listening intently as the tears on his face dried.

 

“Shit… Carl, I had no idea you even-”

 

The older man raised a hand to stop Hank, “I didn’t tell anyone about the surgery. Those gossips would never have left me alone if I did.” He sighed, looking at Connor worriedly, “for all of them to disappear like that… it is troubling indeed.” 

 

Connor nodded, staying quiet the rest of the visit. 

 

\--

 

Carl insisted he couldn’t take any more leftovers, so the two of them returned back to Hank’s house with the container in tow. Hank turned into the kitchen after they got in to put it in the fridge, with Connor following behind.

 

“What a day… Christ, I could-” Almost instinctively, he reached for a beer on the fridge door, but it didn’t quite feel right to fall back in. He had stayed away from the stuff since the storm; maybe he should keep it that way. 

 

The larger man turned, seeing Connor looking at him inquisitively, “Hank?”

 

The fridge door shut and forgotten about, Hank pulled Connor into a close embrace. Words couldn’t express how he felt in the moment, there was too much rattling inside in ribs and bursting from his heart. Thankful, that he had been saved and given another chance; hopeful and intrigued by this strange new presence. He felt responsible for Connor, having been the one that said the words that gave him legs; seeing him experience all these new things for the first time. When he was running along the beach with Sumo… just thinking about the smile on his face…

 

But there was fear and guilt mixed in, too. 

 

Connor could be the last mermaid, if the others were truly gone. Would he want to stay human, escape from the loneliness that had made him look forlorn when he thought Hank wasn’t noticing? And if he did… why would he want to stick around with a wash-up?

 

All of this rippled through Hank’s thoughts, until Connor pressed himself closer. He felt warm, and so soft in Hank’s arms. The doubts seemed to be swept away, and even the ever-present pain in his leg almost felt bearable. 

 

“Are you all right?” The small-sounding voice came through muffled from his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Hank replied, watching the brunet yawn widely. “Getting tired?” Slender arms curved around his neck as Connor leaned into him sleepily, and Hank panicked, “Ohhh no no no no… c’mon… let’s get you to the couch.”

 

“Mmmm is that where you sleep?” Connor asked hazily, making the other man’s cheeks burn scarlet.

 

“Uhhh, my bed…?” he replied, all but yanking a pouting Connor to the living room. “What?”

 

“I shouldn’t… be too far from you… after all…” his eyes opened and closed languidly.

 

Hank was… going to regret this. He was sure of it.

 

He kept on to the bedroom, softly laying Connor down before going around to his usual side of the bed. The covers shifted beside him as he swallowed down the two pills with a small cup of water near the lamp. A deep breath in, he swung his legs up onto the bed, trying not to shake the mattress too much. He looked down to the side; brown eyes hidden behind drooping lids and a hand reached around Hank’s elbow. He wasn’t sure if Connor was conscious of it, but he was humming some sweet melody into the pillow. 

 

Hank drifted off listening to the comforting sound.

 

He would do whatever it took to make Connor happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you for all of the wonderful feedback with the first chapter!! 
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter: @canticumexvacui


	3. The Virgin High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC NOW HAS ART!! Find the amazing artist on Twitter: wow__then 
> 
> Referenced Songs:
> 
> 1 - "Bim Bom" and "Girl from Ipanema" - Astrud and Joao Gilberto  
> 2 - "Message in a Bottle" by The Police  
> 3 - Remember how the fic and chapter titles are from a music album? Please check out "The Virgin High" by Dagmara on Bandcamp!

**_Connor…_ **

  


_M-Mother Amanda?_

  


**_Connor… help us_ **

  


_But … I don’t know how_

  


**_You must free us Connor_ **

  


**_Connor…_ **

  


**_CONNOR…_ **

 

\---------

 

Connor shot up suddenly from the pillow he had been laying on, looking around the room in search of the voice he heard in the darkness. They _must_ still be out there…

 

It was barely dawn when Connor woke up, and he looked over to see Hank sleeping silently beside him. His expressive face looked so calm, every so often his lip would twitch or his eyes would squeeze somehow tighter shut. Carefully, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss just above one of Hank’s eyebrows before rolling off the bed and creeping into the next room. The oranges and pinks of the morning light flooded through the windows that faced the ocean.

 

There were still so many things adorning the walls of the home that Connor found it increasingly more and more difficult to resist. Just like the picture he had asked Hank about, there were other images scattered about: some of people, some of just places or things.

 

There was one strange object, perfectly cut edges of some kind of black, shiny material, with various circles sticking out of it. Some of them could move fluidly, and other snapped into certain places when Connor moved them. It was so fascinating; he crouched down and tried touching one of the small circles, and the object seemed to become alive with little lights, and sounds began to play. He stood up straight, and on the top there was something round spinning underneath a clear shield. Why had Hank insisted humans didn’t have magic? This was incredible! He tried moving one of the circles again, and the sound grew a little louder.

 

Music. There was music coming from it.

 

He set it to a volume that was just loud enough for his own ears, and climbed over Hank’s sleeping land-dog to recline on a velvety seat.

 

Human music was so much different than that of the merfolk; there were so many different types of sounds, and the way humans used their voices was much more diverse. But music, Connor contemplated, truly is such a universal thing. Even dolphins and whales sang, even if it wasn’t quite the same. But it was all beautiful. It made him smile that humans could appreciate the sounds and rhythms, creating something so beautiful.

 

The music ended, for a moment, but before he stood up to see what was wrong, another song began. It was much more energetic than the last one, the percussive instruments thudding faster with excitement. Connor wondered if humans liked to move to music, as well.

 

Letting the music continue, he started to explore the other areas. In the place where Hank prepared his food, one door revealed a small crevice filled with various things, some of which covered in a fine layer of thin, dry silt. There was another part he hadn’t explored yet, which had strangely carved white rocks everywhere: the floor, a strange seat, and some of them had shiny, silver handles on them.

 

He moved to one of them, his bare feet cold on the white floor, and twisted the shiny knob. As he did, water started pouring into the basin. He cut it off with another twist, and inspected the larger fixture, looking for a similar reactions. Connor’s theory was correct, but the water sprayed out from a stick coming out of the wall, getting his hair all wet. He giggled, turning it back off and shaking the water away.

 

Ruffling his fingers through his hair, he went back to the larger room to continue listening more closely to the music. A new song had started, much different from the other ones. It was slower, and gentler; something about it making Connor think of Hank’s arms when he softly held him the night before. He wanted to stay there forever; wrapped tightly and maybe sway back and forth like the rise and fall of the tides.

 

There was a grumble from the room where Hank had been sleeping, and the sound of alternatingly soft and hard steps alerted him of the sudden presence in the room.

  


“G’mornin’...” Hank mumbled, eyes hardly open. “Mmmmph… sounds like the Gilbertos are serenading us, huh?” Connor met his gaze with an open-mouthed, confused look. “Sorry… the people performing the music that’s playing, they are Astrud and João Gilberto. They’re really famous for this kinda music… it’s very relaxing.” He walked over to the record player, turning up the volume. “This song, ‘Girl from Ipanema’, is a fairly popular one, too.”

 

He looked down at Connor who seemed to uncontrollably be leaning side to side to the soothing bossa jazz, and he smiled. “You know… there’ll be some live music performed at the bar in town, tonight. If you’re up to it, we could go?” Hank offered.

 

Connor smiled, “yes! Yes I… I would very much like to hear more human music.”

 

Humming along, Hank started toward the kitchen, “gonna make some breakfast, ar’ya hungry?”

 

He was met with a nod, as his guest and his dog followed him to the kitchen.

 

\--

 

Hank felt strange, a happy flavor of strange, having another companion with him for his usual routine. He had his breakfast, got the mail, and descended those awful rock stairs down to the boat with his fishing pole and lure box… and with Connor. Hank snuck glances at him every once in a while, sometimes catching him gazing back before turning away, sometimes looking off at the ocean with a wistful frown. But overall, still as excitable and eager to help Hank as he had been.

 

The problem leg was giving him a harder time today, so Connor offered to carry his stuff so he could use his cane a little more. He didn’t like relying on the damn thing, but it was better than putting extra stress on his good leg. His doctor told him that sometimes changes in air pressure could make old injuries hurt, so Fowler liked to joke that his leg could predict the weather.

 

He sipped his travel mug of coffee while Connor rowed them out into the small bay; now changed back into the original cargo shorts from yesterday and a tshirt that had the sleeves ripped off over a decade ago. He absolutely swam in it; the hem of the shirt covering half of his thighs.

 

“”Right here is good, Connor,” Hank said, noticing how far from shore they had gotten.

 

“Got it,” the man rowing replied, halting the oars so they coasted to a stop. The gentle waves rocked them as Hank readied his pole, pressing down on the blue plastic button to let the the bobber and lure fly far out away from the boat.

 

They both stared out at the small speck of red in the water, until the silence was broken by Connor shifting in his seat and speaking up, “Hank… may I ask you something?”

 

A short came from the man, “you don't need to ask if you can-” he sighed, seeing Connor look sheepish from his reaction. “Sorry… uhhh, yeah. Ask away.”

 

“Do you… mind my company? Am I a burden to you?”

 

Hank blinked, “What? Wha - no! Definitely not, quote the opposite. I've been on my own for a long time, it's nice to… I really like having you around, for how short it's been,” he admitted.

 

“Would you…” Connor had pulled the coin Hank gave him the day before out, rubbing the ridges with his thumbs. “What if I… stayed like this? What if I stayed a human…” his voice had diminished into a whisper.

 

Hank saw his turmoil; “Do you want to?”

 

“Yes! Well, maybe?” The quarter slipped from his fingers, and he hastily picked it back up. “I thought I heard a voice last night...while I was sleeping,” he said. “It was Mother Amanda; she asked me to help my people but I - I don’t know how?” The shining circle was locked into his tight fist, “and if I fail… what would happen to me then?”

 

Hank felt like he wasn't the right person to be asked this, and yet, maybe he was the only person who could give Connor the truth. “From the sounds of it… you've tried. You tried _hard_ , and maybe it's your own guilt eating at ya but-”

 

“But what if it _isn't?_ ” Connor interrupted, gripped his seat. “What if they are all out there, and I'm here feeling more alive than I have in…” He looked up at Hank apologetically, “I have been truly alone. Many times I gave up hope, but had nothing else to do. I could outlive sea turtles and whales… but to be alone, what would it matter?”

 

“I… I know the feeling, Connor.” Hank said, and then suddenly corrected himself, “not the… not to the same extent, I suppose. But when I lost my son, lost my purpose… there wasn't much keeping me from…” He closed his mouth, and Connor's opened.

 

“O-oh…” he uttered with realization.

 

Hank rubbed his forehead, “I think… you should always keep trying. But if you are happy, here, right now… I don’t think your family could blame you for needing something to keep you going.”

 

Connor stared down at the coin; such an odd, worldly possession that was given to him so effortlessly. So simple, yet intricate in it's own way. Who was to say it was more or less beautiful than the iridescence on the inside of shells? Just because one was made and one was grown from seemingly nothing?

 

Who was to say that he was, or wasn't alone anymore?

 

He definitely was not alone right now; Hank was with him. Hank cared about what he needed. Not what Connor needed to do, or should do… just Connor.

 

“I think that I…” he spoke softly, “I think I can give myself this. At least for a while.” He smiled nervously, glancing back up at Hank, “As long as I… can stay with you?”

 

Hank grinned widely, reached over to mess with Connor’s flowing, brown curls. “You can come and go as you please. My home is always yours. Human or not.”

 

“I…. Thank you, Hank.”

 

\---

 

The day followed on quietly, Hank caught a few fish, but not nearly as many to justify bringing them to Tina. Instead, they drove down to the Collins’ farm to gift them the bigger catches. By now, half the town knew Hank Anderson had a guest, but despite knowing little about him, only kind words about him had traveled. Ben's wife offered to two of them lemonade before they left; Connor silently enjoying her running-on conversation to them about the farm. The season's harvest, the weather, and the impending storm coming in.

 

“It shouldn't be nearly as windy as that storm that passed a few days ago, but it may rain well into tomorrow morning…” She explained, as she filleted one of the freshly caught fish. “Oh, will you be coming down to Jimmy's tonight, Hank? Our niece is playing tonight.”

 

Hank smiled, sipped the sugary drink, “ahhh, that's who that is. I didn't recognize her name from the poster.”

 

“It's Ben's kid-sister's daughter; I haven't heard her perform since she was a little thing!” The woman turned, her voice changing slightly to a sing-song tone, “and of course, Connor will be joining you?”

 

Suddenly put in the spot, Connor set his cup down mid-sip, “uhhh, yes! I am looking forward to it.” Flustered, he realized he had been caught looking at Hank with his thoughts wandering hundreds of leagues away.

 

“Yeah, we will see you there, Mary.” Hank said, “we gotta get going soon, but thank you for the drinks.” He insisted, getting his cane that leaned against the table's edge. Connor followed his cue, nodding his head as they made their way to the truck.

 

“Bye bye, Anderson. And, nice to meet you, Connor!”

 

The clock on the dashboard read three pm, they survived nearly two hours of listening to the older woman chat. Hank was relieved it didn't go any longer.

  


Sumo greeted them excitedly when they arrived home, and Hank ushered him outside to run around while he cleaned the fish he saved for themselves. He showed Connor how to use the record player, change the albums, and picked out a few favorites for him to choose from.

 

“But… how can I choose if I don't know what they sound like?” Connor asked, fingers tracing the edges of the paper sleeves.

 

“Some people just like the cover art enough to give an album a listen. If you don't like it,” Hank shrugged, “you can just switch it.” he started back to the kitchen, “I won't take long, and then we will change into something a little warmer before going out, all right?”

 

Connor nodded, waiting for Hank to leave his sight before glancing through the records again. Some of them looked similar, or at least had pictures of the same people on them.

 

One of them had a variety of dark blues painting a picture of three men with long, wild hair on the cover. He carefully slid the black disk out of the sleeve, placing it in the player and lowering the needle and dust shield. He sat up on the large, soft rock (which Hank informed him was called a “couch”), closing his eyes and listening.

 

It was much different than the music that was played this morning… humans had such a variety of sounds they used, it was rather interesting. The first song started rather abruptly, the singer’s voice in an insistently rushed state.

 

The music carried him, the syncopated rhythms urging him to tap his fingers against his leg. It drifted him along the darkness behind his eyes into his running thoughts: of Hank, Markus and Carl, of Mother Amanda and the others… of Kamski.

 

The demon, always shrouded in black with a face or eyes unlike any other. His mad desire to control the merfolk had kept them far away from waters they once traveled; their fear keeping them away, keeping them safe.

  


**_Connor…_ **

 

A cacophony of voices, voices of his brothers and sisters, called to him on his thoughts.

 

**_Connor…_ **

 

_I hear you… where are you? Why can I only hear you now? After so long…_

 

**_We are trapped. We are hidden._ **

 

_Where? Please tell me..._

 

**_The cavern..._ **

 

_Markus??_

 

**_The cavern where I met Carl…_ **

 

_Your fading away, please, tell me-_

 

**_A storm is coming. After the storm passes, come find us. Save us._ **

  


With a gasp, Connor's eyes flashed open, as the words in the song repeated:

 

_“Sending out an SOS_

_Sending out an SOS”_

 

“Wow,” called from the other room, “didn’t think you would go for ‘The Police’,” he commented, voice getting louder as he entered the room. He noticed Connor's expression of surprise, the song starting to fade away, “Uh… Connor?”

 

“I'm okay… I'm… tomorrow,” he explained, “tomorrow I need to search for them.”

 

\--

 

As he changed into the denim pants and a different selection from Hank's tshirt stockpile, he explained the strange message in his thoughts. Hank listened understandingly, but worry hung on his shoulders and he couldn't hide it.

 

“This Kamski… he's dangerous though. Shouldn't I come with you?”

 

Connor unsuredly shook his head as they walked out to the truck. “I want you to… but…” he paused while they got in, starting the drive into town, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Hank replied “sure, but all the more reason for me to come. What if _you_ get hurt?” Connor frowned, unable to think of a reply. It was a chance he would have to take, but not one that he was willing to get Hank involved in. The driver noticed the stark silence, sighing “we can talk about this in the morning, yeah?” He offered, trying to slip the subject away.

  


Jimmy’s was a little ways from the main part of town, just off a state route that went west through to the next state over. From a distance it would look like a house; white horizontal paneling with the roof overhanging on all sides. There were already a couple dozen cars in the gravel parking lot that was shared with a boat rental shack, and a few folks standing outside smoking cigarettes. The sky was beginning to darken, both from the setting sun and the rain coming in, and Hank pulled into a spot toward the back so he’d have enough room to swing his door out as far as he needed.

 

The two of them got out, meeting at the tail of the truck before walking to the front door, sparse droplets starting to drip from the skies. The inside of Jimmy’s was already warm and full of life, people chatting with their drinks, the small band setting up their gear on a slightly elevated platform stage. Hank jerked his head for Connor to follow him up to the bar, each of them taking a seat on a red-cushioned stool.

 

“Heya Hank, it’s been a while…” The bartender greeted, “the usual for you?”

 

Hank nodded, “Yeah, thanks.”

 

Connor looked over the counter, there were tons of different bottles on the shelved pedestal behind the bar. His lower lip was squished between his teeth as he looked to Hank for help. “I’d like to try some too, if that’s all right?”

 

“Yeah? You ever have alcohol? This stuff makes you feel a little… funny...” He asked a little hushed, so no one could overhear them.

 

“No, but I’d like to try it…” the brunet insisted.

 

The bartender slid Hank his glass, waiting for the next order. “How about a whiskey sour… you still make those, right?” Hank joked, smiling.

 

Jimmy rolled his eyes, pulling the same bottle of whiskey out again, “very fuckin’ funny, Anderson.” He measured the amber liquor and filled the rest of the glass with lemonade from the soda gun, sliding the glass across the counter to Connor.

 

The bartender was flagged down by another patron, leaving Hank and Connor to themselves, and Connor raised the cup to his lips to sip the drink. “It is… similar to what Mary gave us, but something is different.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be the whiskey…. We should limit you to a coupla’ drinks, all right?”

 

Across the room, a glass shattered as it fell to the floor. The sound startled Connor enough that he nearly fell out of his seat, and all heads turned to see what had happened.

 

“I’m sorry, my fault! I’ll pay for the damages,” the young man at the table said, grabbing napkins to soak up the liquid that spilled onto his date’s skimpy dress. “Dear, why don’t you dry off in the bathroom, I’ll take care of this.” The blonde woman stood up, her tall, white heels clicking as she strolled over to the bathroom. The bartender had come around with a few bar rags, shaking his head as he disappeared to find a mop.

 

The man wore his dark hair in a ponytail, the black contrasting with his almost eerily pale complexion, dressed in a rather fancy suit for a bar out in the boonies like this. The other patrons continued on with their conversations, ignoring the spill almost like nothing happened. It wasn’t until Connor was halfway through his drink that the couple came up to the counter. The man was speaking grandociously to his companion, and his expressive arms flung to the side and hit Connor in the shoulder.

 

“Oh, pardon me, sir,” he said, earning a suspicious glare from Hank.

 

“It’s all right,” Connor replied, friendly but shrinking away.

 

The man took a long look at Connor while Jimmy printed out the receipt, “I think we’ve met before, have we not? You seem… familiar.”

 

“Uhh.. no, I don’t think so,” Connor said.

 

The man pulled out his sunglasses from a chest pocket, placing them over his eyes and extending a hand out to Connor, “I’m Elijah.” Before Connor could bring his hand up in return, Elijah snapped it away to lift his sunglasses back up. “Recognize me now?”

 

Connor cringed away in his seat, and Hank sharply rose from his seat to tower over the stranger, “hey, what’s your problem!” He barked out.

 

Jimmy slid the receipt and a pen across the counter of the bar, “Hank, ease off.”

 

Squinting and taking a step back, Hank continued “don’t forget to tip your server,” and polished off what was left in his glass.

 

Elijah signed the receipt, slipped the extra copy in his pocket and taking the blonde girl beside him by the elbow. “What an interesting town…” he muttered as they walked out.

 

Turning to check on his companion, Connor saw Hank leaning over the counter, a snarl contorting his usually soft face. Laying a hand gently on his arm, he whispered softly “are you all right?”

 

He exhaled loudly, lips relaxing. “I’m fine, that guy was just an asshole,” with his opposite hand, he pressed Connor’s closer upon his arm. “Are you okay?”

 

Interrupting the moment, Jimmy had unscrewed a bottle of bourbon and poured a few fingers into Hank’s glass, “this is on the house. Thanks for not starting a bar fight…. Again,” the bartender said. “A refill for you?” He asked Connor.

 

“Yes, please,” the smaller man said politely, turning back to Hank. The sound of electronic feedback cut through the murmur of the bar, and a round of cheers began as the band tested out their instruments for a few moments.

 

The singer introduced herself, and the various band members as the lights were dimmed slightly around the room. After a few more sips, Connor’s attention had turned toward the stage… but Hank’s attention had turned just to Connor.

 

He was hunched over slightly, leaning his arms onto the counter on either side of his drink. The drink had already started to turn his cheeks a little pink, but the color seemed to burn deeper each time he would look over his shoulder to Hank. His enthusiastic smile would drop for a moment, and then brighten tenfold while he eyes blinked away like it was too much to look back at Hank.

 

But every time, he’d look back at the musicians on stage. Sometimes his fingers would tape on the bar, or his glass between sips. Hank looked at every little movement; he was glad they were sitting toward the back so no one would tease him for staring like this. A few of the folks in this very room had tried to set him up on dates in the past, try and get him out of the house a little when he was in physical therapy. He wasn’t ready then… but maybe he could be ready now.

 

A few songs in, Connor had long forgotten the odd encounter earlier, and nearly stood up to excitedly applaud. He slid backwards a little as he settled back into the stool, shoulders leaning in toward Hank.

 

He caught the smaller man, straightening him up. He’d cut himself off from any more drinks, but Connor could probably still do one more and not get sick later. Connor spoke clearly, if loudly, during some of the songs, to ask Hank about the music; what he liked, what the instruments were called.

 

One more whiskey sour, (a smaller one, at Hank’s request), and Connor was beginning to show his low tolerance, getting quiet and loopy. Hank knew at this point everything was starting to feel fuzzy and warm; colors turning more saturated and everything growing louder. Since that included the music, he seemed more involved with it. His pink lips would try to sing along, without any sound coming from him.

 

Hank turned away for a moment to sip his ginger ale, only for his left hand near Connor to be stroked affectionately where it rested on the counter. Too stunned to stop him, he let Connor take his large hand, studying it carefully like it was some piece of lost treasure. Connor's mirroring hand was about a knuckle smaller all around. Hank finally swallowed the fizzy soda that he had held in his mouth in such hesitation of moving, as if he would scare off a wild animal of he moved an inch.

 

“Hankkk..” Connor slurred out, a far-off look from the sound of his own voice. “It's raining.”

 

The man glanced out of one of the windows, nodding, and then smirked. He leaned over, pulling his wallet out. “I'm going to pay for our drinks, and then we can go outside for a bit, okay?”

 

Connor nodded, almost unaware of what Hank had said besides “going outside”, and the transaction was quickly processed as another song began. Soft acoustic strings strummed, the baseline following, and Hank sneakily pulled Connor out the door.

 

It was a gentle rain, like the ones in early spring that last for hours to really soak into the earth. Some of the windows in the bar were cracked open, and the sound of sweet music echoed outside. It was damp enough so their hair would get wet, but it rested more like soft dew on their clothes.

 

Connor walked slowly, lazily, following the slow clapping of the song. His shoulders rolled side to side, and Hank lost all control.

 

He reached down for one of Connor's hands, and then the other, pulling him into the rocky, dimly lit parking lot. “Connor? Do you… can you dance?”

 

Connor followed the voice to Hank's mouth with his eyes, “yes… I think so.” His brows furrowed for a moment before heavy lids allowed his gaze to crawl up to Hank's crystalline eyes.

 

Hank pulled him in closer, putting the delicate hands on his shoulders, his own reaching down to Connor's hips. Careful with his leg, he swung the two of them softly, side to side. The music swelled at the chorus, and Hank could see Connor was pliable like clay in his arms. He guided the smaller hips, just a little, enough so the back-and-forth moved a little more like an imbalanced infinity sign. Connor leaned in closer, longing for it, his head resting on the top of Hank's chest.

 

 

Unminding of the drops of rain that barely began to soak into the fabric of Hank's jacket, he could just make out the gentle beating of the heart that pulsed beneath the layers. Connor closed his eyes; the world's intrusion into his senses becoming more manageable. The music, distanced enough that the impurities and coarse tones seemed as beautiful as the singer's beautiful, airy higher register.

 

There was an aspect of this new form that he had not fully understood until this moment. He could tell the difference in the air when they drove away from the ocean, or the sharp scent in the small grocery store. Right here, with Hank all around him, he could smell him. There was the whiskey that stuck in his beard, of course, and the crispness of his coat. But near his skin, the smell near his neck and continued through the cotton undershirt… it was a warm, almost unreal tang that sent a shiver through him. The weight of the hands that rested on his hips was addictively _good_ , like they were made only to hold Connor in this moment.

 

The shiver caused Hank to sigh, and pull away for a moment as the removed the tan jacket and wrap it around his dance partner. Connor didn't know he was even cold until the absolute contrast of Hank's warm was now blanketing him.

 

“I… should’a brought you a jacket…” Hank's quiet voice was a register lower, yet tender beyond all else. Connor could only hum and shake his head in return, wanting only to stay where he was.

 

His reach on Hank's shoulder slid up, finding the back of his neck and his shaggy, silver hair in his fingertips. One hand continued, coming down along the chiseled jaw. He could almost… he could almost…

 

Shifting weight to the front of his still so-new feet, he felt the urge to tilt his head for the right angle to taste Hank's lips with his own.

 

Warmth seemed to glow through him at the soft press of lips. Hank inhaled deeply through his nose, and then bore down back into Connor's face with his mouth gracefully falling open to let more of him in. There may have been rain all around them, but in this kiss there was only sunshine: happy, warm and hopeful.

 

Connor's muscles gave out, bringing him back down closer to the earth from his sun, but the heat stayed on as he breathed it in. Hank did too; large, wanting pants as he shook himself to be sure it was all real.

 

The song ended a moment later, and he could hear the rasp in Hank's throat, and was pulled toward the car like the stones below their feet were just clouds.

 

The car, more so, muddled the sounds of the bar; the pattering of rain if the cab's roof becoming a symphony as the storm grew harsher.

 

In the dark of the truck, keys jingled from the pocket of Hank's pants as he awakened the machine, bringing them back to the cabin by the shore. The windshield-wipers thudded back and forth, the only distraction for either of them during the ride. Connor found it hard for his breaths to slow, his chest pulsing quickly with an ache that wouldn’t go away. When they arrived back home, the wind was howling as it whipped around the corners of the cabin.

 

He removed Hank’s jacket as they stepped inside; Hank racing a few steps ahead to turn on lights and… almost avoid him. Connor cornered him in the threshold between the kitchen and living room. Pressing him by the chest, he pushed Hank against the frame of the carved wooden archway, throwing himself into the startled man to bring back that warm feeling.

 

“Mmmmph… Con- mmmm…” Hank tried to speak, confliction in every movement. All at once he wanted to kiss Connor, take him as far as he would go. But a fear in his mind told him to step away; to draw a line. He knew the alcohol made it harder, there were needy sounds coming from the other end of the kiss that he was dying to hear more of. Connor hadn’t been one for subtlety from the start, and it wouldn’t be fair to do this now. Not when he would be gone in the morning… maybe gone forever if he did find the others. In panicked frustration, he tugged Connor away by the shoulders, already feeling regret when he saw the hurt in his eyes.

 

“Not… not right now. Not yet,” Hank murmured, hanging his head with features scrunched tight.

 

Connor heard, but didn’t listen. He leaned forward once more, breaking from Hank’s grip, and his leg brushed the growing need in the man’s pants. “Humans… also copulate like dolphins… do they not?”

 

Hank huffed a small laugh, taking a wobbly step away, “shit… nope. We are not going there while you are like this.”

 

Stumbling into the doorway for something to support him up, Connor looked over at Hank with a confused look. “While I’m… but I’m human, aren’t I? Is that not-”

 

“NO! No, I meant… you’re drunk and…” It was hard to say he didn’t want this the longer he looked at Connor shrinking away. He let his body go a little lax, his hand turning Connor’s face toward him. “Please… I don’t… I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. This is all still so unknown to you.” Getting closer, he took Connor by the shoulder and walked them away. “Let’s get some sleep, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

 

It was enough, for now. They climbed into Hank’s lumpy bed; the man on his back with Connor half-laid on top of him. Bare chests pressed together, the storm lulling them into a deep sleep.

  


\--

 

_Chloe…_

 

_Did you see that young man at the bar?_

 

_How peculiar… their one last chance for freedom, the one I’ve been searching for all this time…_

 

_He’s found himself a human that he’s fallen in love with._

 

_I placed a few traps in his dreams when I felt he was close… but he’s still too powerful._

 

_We’ll have to fix that when he comes searching for them tomorrow… won’t we?_

 

_He’ll have to make a choice._

 

_\--_

  


When Connor awoke, Hank’s presence seemed to linger but his body was gone. He was startled from his dreams again, he could see the cavern and the darkness lurking inside it; and now he was alone.

 

His head pounded; but he could hear gentle music coming from the other room, and a pleasant smell coming from the open bedroom door. Moving was difficult as he tore himself away from under the covers, his feet almost slapping on the wood floor as he searched for…

 

His love.

 

These feelings, this warmth in his body… It had to be. He knew of its power, and danger. If he was truly the only one left, Kamski would be looking for him. But… if the others were really still out there, he needed to find them. Only Mother Amanda can control the power wisely; he needed her.

 

The weight of the thoughts hung on him lightened as he saw Hank sitting at the table, a cup of dark, brown liquid steaming beside him. He wore wire-framed lenses at the tips of his nose, and gave Connor a one-sided smile.

 

“Good morning,” he greeted, Connor giving him a pained grin back. “Alcohol did you in good, huh?” He asked.

 

Oh… the drinks they had last night. Was that why he felt so heavy?

 

“This is a common effect?” He asked, holding his head as he sat down. Hank slid a small white bottle with the lid taken off, and a clear glass of tap water.

 

“This should help, I’ll get you some breakfast,” he said, standing up with a yawn as he retrieved two bowls that sat on the counter.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooooooh daaaaaannnng what's gonna happen?!?! Come back on Thursday to find out!
> 
> Once again, big ol' thank you to everybody reading. This fic has been a delight to release out into the world. If anyone has (non-spoiling) questions about this AU, hit me up!
> 
> Also, because I haven't said this yet, a loving shoutout to havenswold and ellingtonfeint for being my test-readers when I first started this WEEKS ago! <3 
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @canticumexvacui


	4. Simple Fix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC NOW HAS ART!! Find the amazing artist on Twitter: wow__then

_The prose_

 

_It breathes water like air_

_Swims deep in the sea_

_If you save them, ask a mermaid_

_What you want it to be_

 

_\--_

_The prophecy_

 

_In love, a mermaid_

_Can be strong as the sea_

_And if love be returned_

_The waters will be free_

 

=======

 

Rowing the boat out, Connor could hardly look at Hank without feeling a dreading ache in his chest. Hank had tracked down a map of the coast, and they found where the cavern would likely be; a long way up the rocky edge of the water.

 

“Try to make it back by sunset, but I’ll wait out at the dock until well into the night just in case,” Hank affirmed, as they bobbed along the water.

 

Connor was hesitantly determined, “are you sure you’ll be all right?” He asked, starting to remove his clothes in the boat before going into the water.

 

Hank turned away, “yeah, just fine,” he smiled as he avoided peaking before Connor splashed into the water, and pulled himself along the boat’s edge in front of him. “You be careful though, and come back if you can?”

 

Connor nodded, feeling Hank whisper the words that asked for Connor to change back to his original form. He could feel the churning and shifting within him, spread down through his legs as they joined back together for his tail. He exhaled a last breath of air as his gills took over. He glided away from the boat to show Hank that it worked, and gave a silent wave ‘goodbye’ as he dove down into the cool waters.

He had forgotten how free and graceful it was to be in the water, but he missed the freedom of two seperate legs. Connor kept his eyes on the features of the shore, and it took a long while before he saw what he was looking for. The water flowed into the deep cave, the sunlight cut off by a bend in the tunnel. Moving forward, he steeled himself for whatever could be ahead, sending a call out through the waters to tell his family he was coming. If they could heard him… if they could call back.

 

He got a little further, the water completely dark, and he rolled his shoulders to activate the bioluminescent edges of his fins and features. The very tips of his fingers, crawling up and fading through his veins, he used the light to feels around the scraggly rocks, hoping for an answer to his call. He came upon a large pocket in the cave, a small waterfall from a mountain spring flowing into a pool before cascading into the salty ocean water.

 

There was a groaning sound, and he dashed behind a rock to avoid being seen. There was something below him; something deep in the water that he just couldn't see.

 

“My dear, Chloe…” A thunderous voice called from the pool above, “our guest must have stopped by, perhaps you should go and greet him.”

 

Catching a glimpse, Connor’s fins tensed. Elijah… the man from the bar, his body oozed with thick black mucus from the waist down, he legs completely lost in it. The blonde girl he was with bore a large set of angler-fish like fangs, and coldly translucent eyes. She ran to the edge and dove into the water; Connor stayed perfectly still to avoid being detected, but the creature immediately circled him. Smiling with the long teeth threatening him, he swam into view, looking nervously up at his now-confirmed fear.

 

Kamski.

 

“You must be Connor… although… haven’t we already met?”

 

\---

 

Hank waited.

 

He waited as long as he could, even bringing a sandwich and Sumo down to the dock with him to wait for Connor. The sun had long gone, and he was wrapped in a few layers to ward off the night’s chill air.

 

Checking his phone, it read _10:45_.

 

A little longer… he could hold out.

 

Connor told him he may not come back, to not worry so much. The other mer-folk may prevent him from going back to visit Hank if they were found. Or, the journey could take longer than anticipated.

 

Hank hoped with all hope that it would be worth it for Connor to come back to him… even just to say goodbye. They hadn’t said it earlier; neither wanted to think about it, really.

 

Shaking himself awake, he decided it was time to head inside. He groaned as he leaned into his grip on the poles. Supported the dock, he patted his leg for Sumo to follow him. “C’mon boy. maybe he’ll come by in the morning.” Sumo whined, his nails clicking on the dock’s edge, as if wanting to either pee or jump out into the ocean.

 

Frustrated, Hank took his cane from where he stuck it in the sand, “there’s nothing we can do right now, Sumo…” Finally joined by his dog, he cursed his way up to the house, “I miss him already…” he said to himself.

  


\----

  


_Out on his boat, Hank was directing the new motor on the end of it, going further and further out to sea. “Connor!?” He yelled out, looking around the waves for any sign of him. Nothing._

 

_As he got farther away, the little beach and his pale, blue cabin disappeared from view. He skipped over waves, some dangerously high, calling with all his might. Something caught his eye, the glint of scales as a tale flashed above the water, and he sped toward it._

 

_An incoming wave threatened to knock him out of the ship, but he had to keep going. The boat rocked sideways, Hank losing grip and plunging into the dark depths, a ringing in his ears-_

 

\--

 

Hank shot up in bed, panting in distress when he felt the familiar tongue of his dope of a dog on the side of his face. It must’ve been early, since it was still fairly dark out. Collecting himself, he gave the dog a good pet as he changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes, when his cell phone rang from the bedside table.

 

“This is Hank,” he said, tugging away the flannel pants.

 

“Hank! Hank, have you looked outside?” Fowler asked, a hint of panic and the sound of his siren through the phone’s speaker.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hank set the phone on speaker as he dug around for some pants. “I just got up, Jeffery, what do you-”

 

“There’s something real weird happening… I’m sorry, but I’m on my way since you’ve got beach access,” he warned.

 

“WHAT? Now hold on a minute,” but the line went dead. “Shit-fucking-fuck!” He rushed to get dressed, hobbling through his house to see out a larger window.

 

Oh…. yes… that would be cause for alarm.

 

There was a large storm out over the ocean, but something about it wasn’t quite right. An eerie, swirling mass was toward the center, and a rush of something very not-natural shot up to the storm's eye from somewhere to the north.

 

Fowler’s patrol car pulled up, the lights off for Hank’s sake but the horn blaring. “Hank! You seein’ this now?!” He yelled, as the two of them started down toward the beach.

 

“I’m lame, not fuckin’ blind Jeff…” Hank spouted, lagging behind as they got closer.

 

There was a roar of thunder from the sky, and Hank stopped in his tracks and shut his eyes in anticipation for a strike of lightning. The large clap shook the ground and the waves, and trying not to shake he continued down with Sumo by his side.

 

Down at the shore, the waves were restlessly crashing hard, foam spraying many yards further up the beach than at even high tide. Fowler had paused at the bottom step, but Hank kept going, wading through the low, but restless water out to his boat.

 

“Hank, what in the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?!” He said, daring to follow his friend.

 

Hank splashed toward the boat on the sunken dock, undoing the leading rope and pulling it toward the shore to get in. “This ain’t a fucking seasonal, tropical storm! This is some weird magic shit,” he said, letting Fowler help him with the boat.

 

“Yeah, but why are _you_ going out? After-”

 

Hank climbed into the boat, fixing the oars in place. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think I know where it’s coming from.” He grunted with effort, pushing into the ocean as Fowler cast him off. “Look after Sumo! I’ll… try to be back.” Without looking back, he started to direct the vessel further out into the waves.

 

He didn’t listen to the yelling or backing behind him. Something wasn’t right… and navigated up the coast until he heard something calling him on the wind.

 

“Haaaaa…” Frozen for a moment, he couldn’t believe the sound on the wind. “Haaaankk!!”

 

_Connor… no!_

 

The harsh waves threatened to crash him into the sharp boulders along the coast, sometimes bumping or scratching up the sides. Keeping on, he found the source of the beam that reached into the sky; there was some kind of cave up ahead. He could make it… the water looked deep enough to paddle in, so he lined up with the entrance, and a monster of a wave lifted the boat and carried him into the winding passage. Gripping the edges, he shut his eyes as the boat tossed and crashed against the cave walls.

 

Swept up, the boat went deeper in, and Hank only opening his eyes when he felt he had slowed down. The light that had been blasting out of the entrance lit up the rocky ceiling, and he looked over at the gently swirling water that he was slowly getting pulling into. At the center, was Connor. His body illuminated by a light that flickered with the thunder booming outside. He was magically still in the middle of the vortex, eyes blank as they looked up.

 

“Hang on, Connor!” Hank yelled; there was a ledge just within reach that he jumped for, struggling to stand up and his palm was scratched harshly by the rough wall.

 

He started to move closer along the narrow footway, when a voice rang through the cavern, “well, if it isn’t the human we’ve aaaaaaaall been waiting for… isn’t that right, Connor?” There was another rumble of thunder, this time the merman’s body twitching slightly.

 

Hank’s arms reached out in worry, but there was nothing he could do. He looked for the voice, his face darkening as he saw its source. “You… it’s you? How the fuck are you-”

 

A thick chuckle wavered in the air, “so much you don’t know, Hank. So much that Connor didn’t tell you, it really is a shame.” The sea demon, a hand outstretched toward Connor with claws sharp, took his eyes off of the chaos to look suspiciously at his guest.

 

“The fuck’s going on? You have them, don’t you? The other merfolk?” He asked, advancing bravely.

 

“Oh, they’re here… Connor found them himself before he realized he could do something about it. But now, what’s their is mine.”

  


\--

  


_Connor opened his mouth to try and scream, only to earn a hiss from the stalking creature that circled around him._ _  
_   
“You want the others… is that right? Why, they’re down below you. I really thought you’d have seen by now…” the demon replied, gesturing to the fading light that seemed to go on forever.

 

_Without a second thought, Connor swam beneath the surface, using as much energy as he could to make his light brighter, only for his heart to seem to plummet at the sight._

 

_They were like statues, carved into the rocks that went down. The faces of those he loved: Markus, North, John… and then Mother Amanda, head bowed and arms outstretched down with her palms out. She had tried to protect him._

 

_Bright eyes followed him, and he looked around to see two more of Kamski’s followers that were identical to their sister, escorting him back up to the surface. As the got closer, their fins became feet and they pulled he out of the water and onto a rock before their master._

 

_“You are all that remains, little Connor,” he said, running a hand of sharpened nails through the damp, brown hair, gripping tightly as the merman resisted beneath him. “Oh… and I saw that you’re in love. Isn’t that right?” He sneered, as Connor’s eyes flashed in anger. “And you think he would love you back? He was merely obligated because you saved his life.”_

 

_Struggling, Connor tried to pull away, but was jolted back into place by a shudder of dark smoke that flowed from the grip on his head. “Your kind was not made to have this power; you are not worthy of it.”_

  


\--

  


“Connor is now the last of the merfolk, meaning he holds the magic of them all. Which, of course, will now be mine.”

 

Hank rushed the monster, fist ready to fly, only to be effortlessly tossed aside. His back hit the wall hard, pain coursing through him as he collapsed to the floor.

 

“You see, Hank… the only thing sweeter for destruction is not love… its despair,” with a snap of his fingers, the storm carried on as Connor’s head lolled to the side. Hank had thought his lower half was together for his tail, but now he saw it was two legs as Connor walked along the top of the rushing water like he was floating on air, and perched along the edge before Hank.

 

“Connor!!” The man called out, with no response.

 

Kamski laughed again, the water swirling faster as the light sparking from Connor’s features flashed off and on. Hank looked away, his head rushing with fear.

 

The lights… the overturned car… he was frozen, panic flaring through his limbs.

 

“Now, Connor… you have only yourself to blame for getting him involved. But,” Kamski flicked a finger, and his unwilling puppet advanced toward Hank, picking him up by the throat with one hand. “Let’s finish this and get back to what we were doing, hmm?  
  
“N-no… please…” Hank coughed out, trying to loosen the grip with both of his hands, hardly opening his throat enough to keep breathing.

 

Connor’s face was still empty of recognition, but his mouth opened just a little as he whispered with pain, “I’m sorry,” it came out forced and scratchy.

 

Hank, despite the situation, smiled to hear the sweet voice one more time. “I sh-should have come with you… you didn’t think I’d come lookin’ f-for you? When you n-never came back?”

 

In the faint outline of his face, Hank could see a small smile glimmer on Connor, before fading into a frown. “But… why?

 

The question of the hour. Why did Hank come out here? He was certainly no hero, no power or magic; he could barely even tread water on good days. Not daring to admit it to himself, but he was afraid of letting himself feel this way again. If this was how it ended… there was no point in bottling that in anymore.

 

“Because I… I love you, C-connor.”

  
  


“WHAT?!” Kamski shrieked.

 

The cloudy light above them began to dissipate, the water’s current fading to small ripple as Hank’s throat was released.

 

Connor backed away, looking over at the panicked demon, before turning back to Hank, “I love you, too,” he said with a tinge of regret, and took a few large, quick steps backwards. As he did, his legs began to grow back his scales. He leapt to dive into the water; his tail formed and flipping as he plunged down.

 

The light followed him down, and as he got deeper and deeper, different lights and colors shined from all around. The once-still figures slowly began to bend and move, heads turning to see the others doing the same.

 

Once they were all awake, Connor swam up to Mother Amanda, grasping her forearm in his as they spoke.

 

_“You have done well, my child.”_

 

_“Mother… I am sorry I could not come sooner. The… power of our people, you must-”_

 

_“Not I, young one,” she smiled, “but together, we shall protect them.”_

 

Around him, the other merfolk circled, waiting to follow him, when a dark presence entered the water above.

 

Kamski, fully immersed, grew larger before them. His dark legs splitting and warping into tentacles, and he crashed into the walls of the cave’s pool, knocking rocks down from the ceiling above

 

Palms forward, Connor advanced as close as he dared, letting forth a beam of light to pierce into his opponent. For his people, for their freedom… for Hank.

 

_Hank…_

 

Kamski had hardly flinched, so he tried to focus harder. The demon’s evil could no longer endure, it had to end now before he could be allowed to attack them again. Mother Amanda swam up to Connor’s side, placing her hand on top of his to strengthen the attack, and then a cry pierced through the waters as their enemy’s dark exterior began to break.

 

Being unfamiliar with the toll of the magic, Connor could feel his body growing weak as he continued to give everything he had. The pain and suffering when he was alone, the joy in finding comfort in his love. That same love… returned. He pushed himself until a shockwave knocked him back, blinking away the blurred vision to find the shell that was once Kamski, hollow and empty, falling down into the depths below.

 

His brothers and sisters approached him, smiling and glad, still stretching from their head to their tails from months of being stiffly locked in stone. Some began to swim back out to the ocean, and Connor found a moment to break away and swim up to find Hank. Propelling himself out of the water, he pulled himself onto the rock. All relief and hope he had from protecting his people, vanished.

 

Hank lay unconscious, his back broken, neck covered in bruises, and a large gash on his head from being hit with a rock. Connor choked out an empty sob, risking himself to leave the water to cradle Hank in his arms. Hank was hurt; Hank was nearly killed...because of _him_. He stroked the scraggly beard on the human’s cheeks, hearing the small splashes of water behind him as the other looked on.

 

 _“We can not stay, Connor. We must return and restore peace to the ocean’s, in wake of what Kamski has caused. You must lead us now.”_ Amanda spoke in his thoughts, her eyes insisting in her gaze.

 

Connor looked at her sadly, and then back down at Hank. “ _But I… what if I wish to stay?”_ He smoothed the blood-matted hair in his lap, “ _A lot has happened since last I saw you. I found this human, I found_ **_love_ ** _, I can not leave him now.”_

 

Amanda furrowed her brows, “ _you would leave us for this human? Abandon your family for him?”_

 

He shook his head, “ _it has been long since Kamski trapped you. I thought that I had been abandoned, lost in my immortality to roam the waters in isolation. But… this human showed me kindness, it did not matter who or what I was.”_ The faces of the merfolk looked on solemnly, all except for Markus, who gave him an approving smile.

 

“ _If that is what you wish, then so be it. It is your choice to make… but if you do this, you can never change back,”_ Amanda warned, sitting upon the edge with her long tail dipped in the water.

 

Connor nodded, “ _I wish to heal him… and be with him… until the end of our days.”_

 

 

He began with Hank’s neck; his thin, softly glowing fingertips tracing the skin to heal the harsh marks he had caused under Kamski’s control. He made his way around Hank’s head and back, soft tears lingering down his cheeks as he looked hopefully for those loving cerulean eyes to open and look at him again. Slowly, his own body also began changing. Lungs filling with the damp, earthy air; tail fins lit up as they seperated and became soft, his body properly changing to that of a human male in all ways. As Amanda felt her powered restored, she added a final touch to give Connor a loose-fitting tunic to cover him.

 

Fully transformed, he felt cold as the magic’s energy left his body, but relieved when he felt Hank’s hand reach up and touch his face.

 

Hank groaned, trying to lift his head, “what the fuck happened?” Connor grinned happily, letting himself cry a little more in relief. “Something good, I hope… must’ve if you’re here with me.” He sat up, surprising even himself. “Why the hell don’t I feel like shit? And how are you-”

 

It had taken Hank a moment to realize Connor was in human form again, partially clothed and soft as ever. His gaze continued, seeing a host of new faces watching from the water. He felt a little shy about the audience, but did what he had waited too long to do again.

 

He learned up, cupping Connor’s sweet face and crashing their lips together. They kissed, smiling through the happy tears that dripped in, breaking away only to hold each other closer still. Hank felt so beautifully vulnerable; Connor was strong and so good to him. He thought he should feel guilty for being so loved, but the feeling never arose; it was so easy to be cared for like this. They would protect each other through anything.

 

“Would you like to stand?” Connor asked softly; Hank nodded as he slid off of Connor's lap and took the offered reach to help him up.

 

His body felt… strange. His joints popped as they had for years, but there was something comfortable about standing. His good leg felt fine, and his other felt…

 

He looked up at Connor, “did you… did you do this?” He raised his leg that bothered him lo these last few years, rotating it and bending the knee like he'd never been able to in his whole life.

 

Connor nodded, bringing the large hand that was still held on his own up to his mouth, place a small sign of affection along the knuckles.

 

There was a rustling of the water; several of the mer-folk had found Hank's boat and held it steady by the edge of the rocks for the two of them to climb aboard. They followed the congregation of water-dwellers out of the cave into the sunshine of mid-day.

 

Hank and Connor watched as the beach get closer and closer, unable to hide the wide smiles that seemed to keep appearing on their faces. Approaching the shore, Hank looked in the distance in slight horror, as it looked like half the town was there, some of them calling out. Hank called out as they approached the dock, and Connor glided his fingers along the water, seeing Markus continuing toward them as the others lingered behind.

 

“Hank? What in the ever-loving-”

 

“Where's Manfred? Carl, you here?” Hank spoke out into the small crowd, walking past a flabbergasted Jeffrey.

 

The elderly painter stepped forward, coming up onto the dock, as Connor walked him to the edge to look into the water.

 

“My god…” He whispered. With Connor's help he knelt down and reached out a hand to Markus. “The years have been unkind to me, but you don’t look like you've changed in the slightest, my friend.” His wrinkled hand brushed Markus's cheeks, the two-toned pair of eyes looking up hopefully and uncaring of the toll time took on Carl.

 

“I have missed you,”

 

Several of those watching the reunion, dropped their mouths open. After all those years, Markus could still speak to humans. He had kept the secret from everyone, even Connor was surprised. “Please keep an eye on my brother, won't you?” He asked the older man, backing away to urge Carl to stand back up straight.

 

“Only if you promise to visit,” Carl requested, a wide smirk and he glanced over at the brunet who clung to his fisherman.

 

Markus looked behind him, shrugging as he turned back around, “I think it's safe to say I will be sneaking away a little more often. It's time we were no longer a secret from all humans.”

 

Hank interjected with concern, “best if it wasn't _all_ humans… or even most.”

 

“Very true, Anderson. May we be selfish enough to guard this secret for ourselves?” Carl asked.

 

Markus smiled back, drifting away in the waves. “I can think of no other who would treasure doing so than you,” he gave his brother one last nod before turning toward the open ocean, his tail spraying them playfully as he swam.

 

They watched on as soft glow in the ocean waters faded away. Connor had taken Hank's hand into his own, squeezing it gently as they waited for the last glimmer to disappear. He nudged his shoulder a little, seeking his favorite sight of Hank's warm face gazing ag him, and he was suddenly picked up by the waist and swung around. When he landed, Hank's lips were on his, arms trapping him close; they exchanged little laughs, unbelieving that they had come so far.

 

“A-hem…. Anderson…” Fowler interrupted, his arms crossed. “Before I asked about what all _that_ was, mind explaining how your leg is fine?”

 

Hank shrugged a little nervously, “seems like a miracle happened, Jeff,” he winked to Connor.

 

“Ya know… I still gave your uniform at the station. We could use you back.”

 

Hank looked at Connor, seeking his approval and receiving an enthusiastic nod. “I think I will… seems like I have a lot of things to keep me out of the water from now on.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The power of love!!!
> 
> God... I love these two.
> 
> Next chapter will be smut-tastic, see you on Saturday!
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @canticumexvacui


	5. All is Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short... And NSFW!!!!!!

Hank could feel guilty about drinking, but only if he kept doing it as often as he had been before all this.

 

He had felt guilty for so long, for so many reasons. Many of them would linger his whole life, but it seemed he could start forgiving himself for each one, step by step.

 

He sat outside his therapist's office, thinking of how different his life had been at the beginning of the summer. The leaves were starting to show their seasonal changes, the tips turning a mustard yellow near the bench where he drank his coffee. 

 

It had been a busy day… for him, and for Connor.

 

They were in the state capital, a smaller city but still full of life and bustling as any other. His doctor was amazed by Hank's progress, but the paperwork had to be filed that he no longer qualified for the small government payments once a month. This was fine with Hank, since stop number two was to take a re-entry exam to be allowed to return to his duties as a town sheriff. He aced it; he hadn't forgotten a single thing in the past few years.

 

His therapist had been… intrigued by his sudden changes, but pleased to hear he was giving a romantic relationship a chance.

 

Speaking of which, Connor had a very full day with the clerk's office. They had built him a believable backstory, raised somewhere away from civilization, no idea who he biological parents were. Hank gave him a crash course in the alphabet, so he knew just enough to sign document after document, making his personhood official on paper. Although, every time they tried to work on it, they kept getting a little distracted with each other….

 

A birth certificate and ID would be in the mail, among other things, but he was also requested to get a physical to confirm his clean bill of health. Which is how Hank found himself waiting outside in a breezy day at the beginning of September.

 

There was still a lot to figure out with him. Connor was eager to learn everything about being a human, but found certain aspects of it troubling. War, death, hatred… humans could be cruel to one another, and there was much of it that he didn’t quite understand yet. But humans were also good, caring, and loving of many things; all of them strange and unique.

 

Hank sipped a steaming paper cup, checking the old-school paper map that marked each of the town's tourist attractions. He heard footsteps approaching him, and coyly kept him focus on the map.

 

A body sat next to him. Younger, and stronger than his own, but it moved in closer and made him feel giddy.

 

“It seems I am perfectly healthy,” Connor told him, sneaking a hand into Hank's lap. “Did you find it?”

 

Hank finally turned, leaning down to peck his boyfriend on the cheek, “it’s just a few blocks away.” He folded up the paper, pulling Connor up with him as he stood up, walking them across the street toward their destination. “So, got the thumbs up, huh? Anything to keep an eye on?”

 

Arm in arm, they walked down the sidewalk, “it seems I have moderately raised sodium levels, but nothing that can't be fixed with proper diet… or so they say,” he said with a wink. A life in salty water will do that to you, Hank figured.

 

They rounded a corner, looking up at the little awning just ahead labeled “Atlantic County Art Museum”. The windows advertised the exhibits, including a special new collection from local painter Carl Manfred.

 

They bought their tickets to the small gallery, immediately passing the first exhibit to find the teal-walled sitting room that was adorned with familiar works. A small CD player in the corner played soft ocean sounds to stimulate guests as they appreciated each piece. 

 

Many were of their little town of Jericho: the lighthouse, Hank's cabin by the sea, the main strip, and the cliffs to the north. One was just of the ocean, waves rippling with dabs of paint for the seafoam that left raised ridges on the canvas. 

 

There was one toward the middle of the room, surrounded with special lights, listed as the artist’s highlighted piece. Connor took a long moment to look at the details; the curled tail along the dark rocks, the bright eyes that looked out of the painting, as if watching the town from this spot on the gallery. 

 

“Carl had to restore it, along with a few other ones… you would never know this one was so much older than most of the others,” Hank commented, wrapping his arms around Connor from behind as they studied the portrait together.

 

Connor leaned into the embrace, “I think he should paint you, it would far exceed anything here as far as beauty.” He nuzzled into Hank’s shoulder and heard the man chuckle breathlessly.

 

“I don’t know where you got this idea in your head…” Hank said, kissing the side of that very head, “but I’m not going to complain.”

 

Connor twisted around, “good,” he insisted.

 

They wandered through the other exhibits before leaving, Hank answering every little question Connor had, relishing in his still-adorable confusion and fascination. They stepped out of the chilly, air-conditioned building, skin immediately thawing in the warmth of the warm, humid air. 

 

“Man, when I was a kid it would already be time to break out the winter clothes,” he said, earning a wry smile from Connor. “What?”

 

Shaking his head, he replied earnestly, “I know you were one at one time, but I can't imagine you as a child. How were you ever small?” He said, reaching on the tips of his toes to fail at matching Hank's height. 

 

A thought crossed Hank's mind that, as they had discussed previously, Connor was significantly older despite his appearance. He likely looked the same now as he did when Hank was born. The idea made his head spin a little.

 

“What about you?” Hank asked. “Did you crack out of an egg looking so pretty?” He joked.

 

Connor stuck out his tongue, “noooo,” and he rolled his eyes. “In fact I was likely smaller than your hand when I hatched. Though, I looked much different.”

 

“Huh…” Hank raised his hand to get an idea of the proportions, while still holding Connor's. 

 

They continued strolling down to the garage where they parked their car, Connor stopped and looked at a small shop with an opened window. In front of it was a laminated, and weathered countertop.

 

“Shit.. I haven't been here in years,” Hank said, looking over the old ice cream parlor. “You wanna get some?”

 

“Some… what?”

 

Hank froze in his tracks. “You've lived too long without experiencing ice cream.” He stepped closer, “we have to fix this.”

 

With a very bemused Connor in tow, he ordered two small dishes of soft serve. One of each and the standard flavors, if by some tragedy Connor didn’t like one so he could have the other.

 

They stood on the sidewalk, Hank watching intently as Connor scooped a dollop of vanilla onto the plastic spoon, meeting Hank's eyes as he maneuvered it to his mouth. His lips closed around it, pulling away the clean spoon and closing his eyes. 

 

Hank waited in agonizing silence, “So? Whattya think?”

 

He was relieved when the soft lips curved into a smile, “it's… it reminds me of you.”

 

“What? You think I'm vanilla?” Hank asked, knowing Connor wouldn't get the innuendo, but it blurted out so quickly.

 

But Connor shook his head, “No, no… its soft, and sweet…” he eased into a soft kiss, teasing a tongue along Hank's teeth and giving his lips a little bite before pulling away. “It melts from my mouth.”

 

“You…” if Hank wasn't also holding a cup of ice cream, he would've pressed Connor against the lamp post near street and licked him up. This young man had no idea the downright  _ sinful _ things Hank wanted to do to him. Or, maybe he did…

 

“We should start heading home, don't you think?” The sweet voice asked, starting to pull Hank along their way once more.

 

\--

 

Hank was never one for multitasking, but he wasn't sure if it would have been any harder to eat his ice cream while driving himself, than letting Connor spoon-feed him carefully as they sped across the rolling hills back home. 

 

It had been a long day, the late afternoon already giving way to a technicolor dusk. Carl had offered to watch Sumo until the next day, enjoying the lazy dog's company, as well as the opportunity to paint an unpredictable new subject. Hank wasn't going to object, not when it meant they could finally have some guilt-free private time.

 

Connor had been unbelievably eager to try new things with Hank. Just the night before, as they sat on the couch to unwind before bed, Connor started to get exceedingly touchy. They had a record on, the first Queen album, Hank reading silently with Connor’s legs in his lap. Eyes closed, he listened intently to the travelling guitar riffs and precisely sung serenading of Freddie Mercury. After the vinyl was flipped to Side B, Connor propped himself upright to play with the silver hairs of his dearest. Hank smiled, amused by the carefully combing fingers. 

 

It didn't take long for the book to be forgotten on the coffee table, lips locked and hands all over, but they were interrupted from going further when Sumo jumped on the couch to insist on being a part of the snuggly sandwich.

 

“ _ Tomorrow.. I promise…  _ Hank told him.

 

And now… tomorrow was here.

 

Connor held back his excitement outwardly, but Hank had noticed how he squirmed during the last leg of their drive home. He sighed with relief when they pulled into the driveway, lit only by a small, blue-tinted bulb beside the the front door. Hank walked up first, keys unlocking the little home, and he chanced a look over his shoulder to see Connor, glowing in the aqua light like he was cautiously hiding, drifting beneath the ocean again. Hank held his hand as they went inside, leaving the lights off and gently coaxing him up against the nearest bare wall. His hand reached around Connor's neck, feeling the neatly trimmed bottom of his hairline and releasing a nervous breath at the simple touch.

 

“H-Hank…” he whispered, his focus undecided between Hank's eyes and lips. The taller of the two closed the gap and finding the sweet skin between Connor's neck and shoulder with his teeth. Connor breathed a little more hotly, hands searching for something to ground himself, so he caressed Hank's hips.

 

The hungry lips traveled upwards, nipping at an earlobe before smashing into Connor's mouth. It was loud; the wet sounds filled the dark, quiet house. Unable to stop it, a squeaky gasp interrupted them, making Hank only more interested in drawing more of those sounds to the surface.

 

Large hands stroked downwards, startling Connor as one landed on right on the unfamiliar and hardening mound in his pants. Hank had seen it before, when they would change clothes each night, but if hadn't felt right to touch just yet. 

 

“Could you help me, Hank?” Connor asked in a mousy tone, “I'm not quite sure what to do with... any of it.”

 

Their faces were pressed together, so Connor felt the bristles tickle his cheeks as Hank nodded and he shuddered. “Might be easier with you laying down,” he said, stepping away and pulling Connor through the dark to the bedroom, and helping him out of his shirt.

 

It was a sight he would never tire seeing; his bare torso which was still adorned with beautiful little marks, once blue and now brown. Once the shirt was off, Hank knelt before the beautiful creature and took morsels of soft skin into his mouth, his tongue feeling the small bumps and tasting the saltiness of sweat.

 

An anxious sigh comes from above him, feeling the ribs shake against his mouth. Hands begin to fumble with the affronting clasp of the jeans; Connor now desperate for it all. For more touching, for more of Hank devouring him, more of the building heat in his stomach and cheeks. 

 

Hank began to help, pulling away the stiff fabric and removing the slip-on shoes and socks, giving each foot a loving peck, and then starting on his own clothing. Through the dim view, he found the switch for the standing floor lamp in the corner, hearing Connor climb onto the sheets as the blankets rustled around. With the new brightness, Hank started unzipping his pants as he looked at the painting-worthy picture waiting for him. 

 

Connor clutched at the sheets with one hand, the other daring to feel his own skin, his body, his wanting cock. Hank's own was quickly catching up, he reached over to the windowsill where his aloe plant had thrived for years, plucking off one of the larger rinds. It was something he had always kept around after an old roommate told him the viscous gel could be used as a lubricant, and was particularly handy to have out here, where variety in sex products was incredibly limited. 

 

The chunk of plant was placed on the bed as his socks were tossed aside, and he prowled along the sheets toward Connor and watched him exploringly touch himself.

 

“Feels…. Feels so good…” he mumbled out, fingers rubbing the exposed tip; the foreskin had receded when he grew hard. From on top, Hank straddled one of Connor's legs, his hand completely covering Connor's around his member. The man sighed happily, hips bucking from the surrounding warmth and his eyes dreamily looked down at Hank's engorging penis. 

 

“Would you like me inside of you?” Hank asked, his middle finger carefully circling the clenched hole that was nearly covered by the wrinkles of the quilt.

 

Connor nodded vigorously, almost trying to press the finger in preemptively as his pelvis pushed against the digit. “Y-yes… 

 

Hank took the aloe plant in hand, squeezing the freshly plucked leaf; the translucent meat inside coating his thick fingers. He rubbed in around, setting the rest aside and entering the tight hole slowly. 

 

Connor’s eyes were glued to the ceiling, back arching through the sensation, until the pressure climbed and his face cracked into a pained wince. 

 

“I'll go a little slower, sorry…” Hank drew one of Connor's knees up to his chest, kissing it gently, waiting for his partner to relax before pressing on. The high-pitched breaths quickened, the pale legs shaking as Hank started to pull his finger out carefully. “How are you feeling? Is this okay?” He asked, the tip of his finger still inside until he was given the go ahead.

 

“Mmmmph…” Connor hummed, words forming with immense effort in his mind, “more… give me  _ moooreee _ …” Without needing a moment to wait, Hank pushed in again before Connor was done speaking. “Nnnn… I want you… I l-love you so…. aahhhh!”

 

Hank let another finger join in the fun, cutting off his lover’s words but smiling at the sweetness of them, “I love you too, Con, with all the stars in the sky.” He pumped in and out, Connor gasping for air and grinding the fingers further in to help them go deeper, like he could feel them reaching for something. “Hold on tight,” Hank warned, letting them dive as deep as they could go and finding the treasure buried deep within.

 

Connor's hips twitched violently, his voice nearly singing in the ecstasy. His blushing hardness bounced with the rocking of his body, and Hank teased a third finger to stretch him open just a little more. But this prevented him from going deep, and Connor whined from the lost sensation. Verging on the edge, his teeth nearly chattering in want. 

 

“H-h-hank…” he moaned shamelessly, looking down as he found himself suddenly empty while Hank leaned in to kiss him. 

 

“Trust me, honeybee?” He asked, Connor nodding just as he was flipped over, held up by his elbows and knees. 

 

Hank groped the soft asscheeks, rubbing them with the heels of his palms, and then retrieved the section of aloe to coat his throbbing stiffness. He teased the head just out of reach for Connor, making him search for it with his hips. 

 

Finally, hee eased forward, giving in to Connor's barely enunciated pleas, until he was gliding into the tight ring of muscle. Groaning, Hank paused for a moment once the head disappeared inside, feeling Connor shudder beneath his hands. “Gonna go slow,” he said, retracting just a tad before letting Connor take over by pushing back into his cock.

 

They both exhaled as Hank went in further, the pair nearly collapsing on the bed once Hank had bottomed out. Composing himself, Hank gripped Connor's skinny waist, forcing himself out just a little before thrusting back in. Connor mewled as the sweet spot was rediscovered, arms reaching for a pillow to hold onto as he moved with Hank's motions. 

 

Finding a steady pace, the room warmed up and the rhythmic slapping picked up speed. Connor vocalized much louder than Hank, every noise tumbling out of him so beautifully. “Ye-yeah-sss-- ohhh!” His upper body curled down as he went down to one elbow holding him up, the other hand pressing around his balls. Trembling fingers found his own dick again, “Hank?! Hank, I'm-” 

 

Connor felt like he was drowning in the feeling of it all; vision hazy and bright and the sound of his ass hitting Hank's hips resonates in his head. His partner felt the hole tighten deliciously as Connor came; Hank’s head felt dizzy as Connor half-screamed his name feeling his own orgasm riding up behind. 

 

Even after cumming, Connor breathed with the pleasure of Hank pounding into him while he finished; basking in the strange fullness as he was filled with Hank's seed. The cock removed slowly, carefully, letting Connor adjust until it was out and Hank laid down beside him.

 

Still panting, Hank let his arm on Connor’s hip slide farther around, pulling the shaking body close to his own. He was afraid it had been too much at once… they should have started with oral, or just more touching. It was his responsibility to take Connor through all of this one step at a time.

 

As if Connor could feel him worrying, he rolling around so he was facing Hank, pressing his legs close until they naturally entwined together. He ran fingers through Hank's beard; half-lidded, dark eyes looking at Hank like he was the most divine man to ever exist. It made Hank squirm, his flushed cheeks burning deeper as he looked away. Connor gave a gentle, soft laugh, kissing the tip of Hank’s nose before moving in slowly to find his lips. 

 

“I find it hard to believe,” another kiss, “that you waited so long to copulate with me,” Connor commented with a lightness in his voice. 

 

Hank tried, he tried  _ so _ hard, not to snort when he laughed at the adorable use of the word, “well… did you enjoy it?”

 

Now it was Connor’s turn to blush, and he hid his face in the fuzz of Hank’s chest. “Yes,” his voice said, muffled. 

 

\--

 

_ Two months later… _

  
  


The chill of November had arrived, and Hank was bundled up in a thick jacket and gloves as he drove the squad car to the small police station. Stepping inside, he waved to Fowler, who sat behind the desk, and tossed the ring of keys from the doorway. 

 

“G'night Jeff,” he said, giving a sly wave as he shut the door to go to his truck. As it rumbled awake, he turned the radio up and headed toward the ocean.

 

Police work had been the same as it had been: mostly dealing with drivers speeding down the winding, country roads. It wasn't thrilling or dangerous, but maybe that was for the best. In his youth he had dreamed of being on some homicide cases, or even some kind of drug bust. But in a small town like this, that wasn't something he had ever needed to deal with. 

 

Slick, multicolored leaves clung to the edges of the asphalt, and he took the truck slowly along the one-way drive up to the lighthouse. Barely even dinner time for most people, and it was already dark out. But, beyond the large metal doors was his shining light.

 

From the stalled truck, he honked on the horn to announce his presence, turning down the radio as the door opened and a hoodied-figure and large dog approached. The doors were clicked open, Sumo jumping into the back, and the excited brunet hopped in and immediately plunged face-first into Hank’s lips. The uniformed officer kissed him back, tongue teasing at the corners of his mouth, “missed you today,” he managed out.

 

“Mmm… missed you- mmmmmm, too,” Connor replied, finally leaning back to let Hank drive them home. 

 

Hank heated up leftovers in the microwave, Connor pouring each of them a pint of beer from a growler they got on a weekend trip they took. Their day to day routine had changed since the weather had gotten colder. Connor decided to make use of Hank’s fishing boat, taking over his old routine since he returned to work. But in early November, the water had gotten to cold and windy to be out on the boat for too long. So he spent the days exploring, little by little. Hank would drop Connor off either in town, or with Carl up at the lighthouse. He’d work odd-jobs, spend hours in the library, or just sit with the old painter in the lighthouse to alleviate his loneliness. 

 

A part of Hank still worried that Connor missed his freedom in the ocean, swimming wherever he pleased and being with his family. They hadn’t heard from the others since the summer; Connor insisted they probably wouldn’t until next summer when they came back up from the warmer waters. 

 

Connor set the glasses down while Hank had moved on to scooping Sumo’s food into the large stainless-steel dish, watching curiously as his partner disappeared into the living room. He had a guess, and decided to one-up the charmer by grabbing a long-forgotten candle from one of the cabinets, and lit it with a match just as the gentle swing music started swirling through the house from the other room. Just before Connor returned to the kitchen, Hank flicked off the lights and smirked as he sat in his seat.

 

Peaking around the corner, the light of his life smiled brightly, approaching the little table cautiously through the nearly-dark room. “How was work today?” He asked, raising his glass to clink against Hank’s.

 

“Heh, it was fine. Same ‘ol stuff, different date on the calendar,” he said, toasting their glasses and sipping the light ale. Sumo had finished his own dinner, scarfing it down with ease, and plodded over to the table to lay at the feet of his two owners. 

 

They ate silently, enjoying the music as it swayed the mood. Every so often, the candle would flicker when Connor would look up at Hank. He’d smile, enjoying the bearded face in the warm light, and turn back to his food just before he was noticed.

 

But, after a close call, Hank spoke up, “I see you over there. What is it?”

 

Connor beamed, “I’m just happy that… of all the fish in the see, you chose me.”

 

Nearly choking on his food, Hank chortled, “well, my fishing days are over. I got the perfect catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not CRYING... well, maybe I am.
> 
> Finishing this was rough, but I'm so glad to call our a completed project,.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!!
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @canticumexvacui

**Author's Note:**

> The title, and chapter titles, come from the album "The Virgin High" by Dagmara  
> Please check out their music on Bandcamp, and consider purchasing the album to support some incredible artists!
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @canticumexvacui


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